She looked intensely amused at his face of disgust. "Lady Ormstork is not bad looking for her age," she suggested wickedly. "You must admit she is rather handsome." "I dare say," he returned, not certain how far she was in earnest. "It never occurred to me to take stock of her." Ulrica kept her countenance steady, but her eyes were dancing. "Then your devotion was purely Platonic?" she observed. "You may call it what you like," he replied, playing for safety. "As I wasn't taking any." "Ah, then, I suppose it was devotion to your friend, Lord Quorn," she pursued, the corners of her mouth twitching with mischief. "Of course. He saved your life, didn't he? And you--yes; how generous of you." "Oh, bother my life," Peckover exclaimed with an impatient laugh. They had covered a good deal of ground without getting on very far towards the end he had in view, and any moment now Quorn might run them down. "I expect poor old Quorn is feeling rather sick by now," he remarked pointedly, "at your giving him the slip and going off with me." "You don't think he'll be jealous?" she asked with a laugh. "Shouldn't be surprised." "There is no real reason why he should be," she said. "Nor no reason why he shouldn't be--if you like," he rejoined insinuatingly. "I don't understand you, Mr. Gage," she said, looking at the same time as though she understood him perfectly. "If you liked me half as well as I like you," he explained bluntly, under the compelling spur of her charms. "You think it would matter to Lord Quorn?" "You ought to know best," he returned. "I know it would matter a lot to me. The question is, which do you prefer?" "Oh, his lordship, of course," she answered mockingly. "Because he is a lord?" "Naturally." "I see," said Peckover catching her tone. "Is that your own original idea or Lady Ormstork's?" "It is certainly Lady Ormstork's," was the evasive answer. "But not yours. Not altogether," he urged wickedly. "You might have room in your heart for a little fondness for me?" She laughed. "Why should I?" "It would be such a treat," he pleaded. "You are very, what Lady Ormstork calls, unconventional," she said quizzingly. "Does that mean nice?" "It may." "You can't tell unless you give a fellow a chance," he said amorously, as his arm, extended behind her, somewhat unnecessarily, to put aside a bough, remained there. "Ulrica!" he murmured. "Mr. Gage!" "Percival--Percy," he suggested with empressement. "Ulrica, time's short, so don't let's quibble about trifles. You're the loveliest girl I've ever set eyes on," he continued with glib passion, "and I'm desperately in love with you. I've been dying to tell you so all the time, but never could till this blessed chance came along. Ulrica, say you're a little fond of me, in return."