"Slightly. There's no comparison. She's a real beauty, and full of fun."
"Oh, you found that out, did you?" Peckover observed curiously.
"Rather. This is the sort of Lord Quorn I'm paying for."
"She has a lot of money," said Peckover.
"How do you know?"
"The old lady-bird told me so. Confidential old party. Good as admitted they had come down here to have a dash at you."
"Me?" cried Gage, much interested.
"Your title. Or, rather mine," his friend declared sombrely, so dismally, indeed, that Gage said—
"Come, you are not going to repent? This is what I paid for. I told you so at the outset."
"Oh, yes," Peckover agreed. "It's fair enough," and with the image of Miss Buffkin's commanding beauty in his heart, he darkly resolved to try whether some of her smiles might not in future be for him.