"Are you going to see her?"
"Mrs. Schley? I daresay."
"Well, you remember what I tell you. She'll be as dry as a dog-biscuit,
wear a cap and spectacles with gold rims, and say nothing but 'Oh, my,
yes indeed!' to everything that's said to her. Does she come from
Susanville?"
"How extraordinary! I believe she does."
Leo Ulford's laugh was triumphant and prolonged.
"That's where they breed marmars!" he exclaimed, when he was able to
speak. "Women are stunning."
"I'm afraid I don't quite understand," said Lady Holme, preserving a
quiet air of pupilage. "But perhaps it's better I shouldn't. Anyhow, I am
quite sure Miss Schley's mother will be worthy of her daughter."
"You may bet your bottom dollar on that. She'll be what they call 'a
sootable marmar.' I must get my wife to shoot a card on her."
"I hope you'll introduce me to Mrs. Ulford. I should like to know her."
"Yours isn't the voice to talk down a trumpet," said Leo Ulford, with a
sudden air of surliness.
"I should like to know her now I know you and your father."
At the mention of his father Leo Ulford's discontented expression
increased.
"My father's a rotter," he said. "Never cared for anything. No shot to
speak of. He can sit on a horse all right. Had to, in South America and
Morocco and all those places. But he never really cared about it, I don't
believe. Why, he'd rather look at a picture than a thoroughbred any day!"
At this moment Sir Donald wandered into the room, with his hands behind
his thin back, and his eyes searching the walls.
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