"Just to keep his hand in. He is uncommonly keen on meeting you, and he has got a bagful of funniments ready for the occasion."
"Pleasant fellow," ejaculated Quorn ruefully.
"Yes," pursued Peckover, "it's providential this chap, t'other Quorn, turned up. And if you take my advice you'll let him sit where he is till the Leos have eaten their heads off at The Pigeons and turned the game up."
"Looks as though I'd better," Quorn agreed reluctantly.
"It will be bad enough if Carnaby catches you about as it is," continued Peckover, encouraged by the success of his argument. "He may do something distinctly unpleasant, but, not being for the moment Lord Quorn, you won't have to marry old Lalage into the bargain."
"That's something," murmured Quorn.
"Everything, almost," said Peckover cheerfully. "If you wriggle out of that matrimonial spring-trap, you won't mind leaving half of your tail behind. You may lose a feature or two, but you'll be saved a life-time of bother."
"To get quit of Lalage would be gratifying," Quorn admitted gloomily. "But with my nose sliced off——"
"If," urged Peckover encouragingly, "you keep away from the looking-glass you'll never miss it."
"But other people will," Quorn objected, clearly discomposed by the idea.