"I only took it for as long as I fancied," urged Gage.
"A bargain's a bargain," observed Peckover. "You can't take on a title and give it up as though it were a furnished house."
"Can't I?" his friend rejoined vehemently. "Anyhow, I mean to. I've had too much of it. I didn't suppose it included Spanish bullies and Australian bush-rangers."
"You can do as you like about giving it up," retorted Peckover. "Only it don't come back to me I promise you. I didn't sell it on appro."
Quorn, who had been ruminating on the events just past in glowering silence, looked up quickly.
"Sell?" he demanded suspiciously. "What do you mean by sell?"
"Mind your own business," returned Gage snappishly. "That's the worst of men like you. You do a fellow a service and then there's no end to the advantage you take of it. Thrusting yourself in and talking absurd rot to the girl. If you don't keep in your place I shall have to put you there."
"That's what I'm going to trouble you to do before you're much older," retorted Quorn darkly.
Gage looked puzzled. "What was your reason," he demanded, turning to Peckover, "for sticking out that he was Lord Quorn? Were you pulling that infernal little fire-brand's short leg, or did you mean it?"
Peckover considered a moment, then replied with a nod at Quorn, "You'd better ask him."