'Really, Sir George?' she said, receiving the information gravely, and raising her eyebrows. 'Then Estcombe is your Mr. Dunborough, is it?'
'If you will,' he said, almost sullenly.
'But you love it,' she answered, studying her fan, 'and I do not love--Mr. Dunborough!'
Marvelling at her coolness and the nimbleness of her wit, he turned so that he looked her full in the face. 'Miss Masterson,' he said, 'you are too clever for me. Will you tell me where you learned so much? 'Fore Gad, you might have been at Mrs. Chapone's, the way you talk.'
'Mrs. Chapone's?' she said.
'A learned lady,' he explained.
'I was at a school,' she answered simply, 'until I was fifteen. A godfather, whom I never knew, left money to my father to be spent on my schooling.'
'Lord!' he said. 'And where were you at school?'
'At Worcester.'
'And what have you done since?--if I may ask.'