But before his lips could reach hers, Lady Ormstork's shrill voice called "Ulrica!" The handle of the door was turned, and Peckover sprang guiltily over as much carpet as he could cover from that interesting take-off, as Gage burst in upon them with a face of suppressed fury which was not diminished by the obvious suggestiveness of the attitudes of the conscious pair. CHAPTER XXX "Look here, old man," said Gage to Peckover, as they settled down to their cigars after dinner, "you're not playing the game." "What about?" his confederate inquired blandly. He had felt from Gage's sulky attitude all dinner that something was coming and was consequently prepared for it. "Your carrying on with Ulrica Buffkin," was the blunt answer. "She is my girl; and you know that as well as I do." "It's not in our contract that all the girls belong to you," Peckover suggested gently. Gage frowned. "She came for me. She was after me," he returned in an exasperated tone. "That was the arrangement. And I don't pay you five thousand a year to interfere in my love affairs." "It's not my fault," Peckover urged coolly, having drunk champagne sufficient for a reckless enjoyment of the controversy, "if the girl fancies a change. It's your business to make yourself sufficiently interesting to keep her affection. If you don't, well, I may as well take her on as any other fellow." "Don't you talk a lot of conceited nonsense," retorted Gage, keeping down his fury with an effort. "The girl's all right: but she's led by your infernal monkey tricks into thinking that I'm neglecting her; so naturally she pretends to take up with you." "Well, that's one way of looking at it," Peckover observed with vinous sarcasm. "It's the only intelligent way," Gage returned. "From your point of view," his friend rejoined, tossing off a glass of port wine. "It's from my point of view that we've got to look at the affair," Gage said, with rising anger, for the other's coolness and confidence were more exasperating than his words. "And," he proceeded, banging his fist on the table, "my view of the case is, that if you don't stop your little game and sheer off the Buffkin there's going to be a row." "I wouldn't," observed Peckover sententiously, "have anything to do with a girl, however good-looking, for whom my sole attraction was my title, and who didn't mind showing as much." "Has she told you that?" Gage snapped. Peckover shrugged. "Practically." "Of course," Gage returned with an ugly mouth, "that's because she's huffy with me, thinking I'm not so keen on her as I ought to be, and you are." "I suppose her feelings don't count," Peckover retorted, being pretty sure of himself with the fair Ulrica.