"I have you fast!" cried Matey.
"Two and two's four," said Browny. She slipped. "Are four," corrected he, a tutor at all times, boys and girls taken in and done for, and no change given at the turnstiles.
"Catch as catch can," was her next word. Plop went a wave full in the rosy mouth. "Where's the catch of this?" stuttered the man.
"A pun, a pun!" bellowed the lady. "But not by four-in-hand from London."
She had him there. He smiled a blue acquiescence. So they landed, and the die was cast, ducks changed, and the goose-pair braving it in dry clothes by the kitchen fire. There was nothing else to be done; for the answer confessed to a dislike of immersions two at a time, and the hair clammy with salt like cottage-bacon on a breakfast-table.
Lord Ormont sat with the jewels seized from the debating, unbeaten sister's grasp.
"She is at Marlow," he opined.
"Was," put in Lady Charlotte.
The answer blew him for memory.
"Morsfield's dead," his lordship ventured; "jobbed by a foil with button off."