"That's about what she'll have if she marries you," returned Mr. Buffkin, whose eloquence, if not exactly copious, was considerably to the point.
"Shall we drive on?" suggested Lady Ormstork. "Au revoir, Lord Quorn," she gushed. "Till this afternoon, then. Au revoir, Mr. Gage." Not knowing Peckover's name, since the reshuffle, she discreetly left him out.
But Ulrica's parting nod was for him alone.
As the carriage rolled away up the High Street the duke was the first to speak.
"What time does that infernal train leave your unsavoury town of Great Bunbury?" he inquired.
CHAPTER XLII
Sharnbrook had called at Staplewick for an authoritative version of certain blood-curdling rumours which had reached him, and he stayed to luncheon.
"Wish I'd known you were having such a thrilling time," he said regretfully. "I'd have come up and helped. Well, I say, with this new twist of the Quorn title our fair friends at the Moat will get a nasty shake, eh? I'm ever so grateful for the way you fellows have relieved the pressure of the fair dodgers; they've eased off wonderfully of late, and I've got my wind again."
"Glad to hear it," observed Peckover. "Always willing to oblige a sportsman."