"Oh, bother my life," Peckover exclaimed with an impatient laugh. They had covered a good deal of ground without getting on very far towards the end he had in view, and any moment now Quorn might run them down.
"I expect poor old Quorn is feeling rather sick by now," he remarked pointedly, "at your giving him the slip and going off with me."
"You don't think he'll be jealous?" she asked with a laugh.
"Shouldn't be surprised."
"There is no real reason why he should be," she said.
"Nor no reason why he shouldn't be—if you like," he rejoined insinuatingly.
"I don't understand you, Mr. Gage," she said, looking at the same time as though she understood him perfectly.
"If you liked me half as well as I like you," he explained bluntly, under the compelling spur of her charms.
"You think it would matter to Lord Quorn?"
"You ought to know best," he returned. "I know it would matter a lot to me. The question is, which do you prefer?"