“Deuced impertinent, I call it,” replied the repulsed; “won’t have such a chance again. After all, she’s not _half_ a nice girl.” “Don’t say that,” vociferated Lacquers, “don’t say that. She’s _perfect_, my dear boy; she’s enchanting--she’s got _mind_, and that--what’s a woman without intellect?--without the what-d’ye-call-it spark?--a--a--you recollect the quotation.” “A pudding without plums,” said Sir Ascot, who was a bit of a wag in a quiet way; and “A fiddle without strings,” suggested the Major at the same moment. “Exactly,” replied Lacquers, quite satisfied; “well, my dear fellow, I’m a man that adores all that sort of thing. ’Gad, I can’t do without talent, and music, and so on. Do I ever miss an opera? Didn’t I half ruin myself for Pastorelli, because she could dance? Now, I’ll tell you what”--and the speaker, lighting a fresh cigar, forgot what he was going to say. “Then _you’re_ rather smitten with Miss Kettering, too,” observed D’Orville, who, as usual, was determined not to throw a chance away. “I thought a man of your many successes was _blasé_ with that sort of thing;” and the Major smiled at Sir Ascot, whilst Lacquers went off again at score. “To be sure, I’ve gone very deep into the thing, old fellow, as you know; and I think I _understand_ women. You may depend upon it they like a fellow with brains. But I ought to settle; I ‘flushed’ a grey hair yesterday in my whiskers, and this is just the girl to suit. It’s not her money I care for; I’ve got plenty--at least I can get plenty at seven per cent. No, it is her intellect, and her refusing Uppy, that I like. What did you say, my boy? how did you begin?” he added, thinking he might as well get a hint. “Did you tip her any poetry? Tommy Moore, and that other fellow, little What’s-his-name?” Lacquers was beginning to speak very thick, and did not wait for an answer. “I’ll show you how to settle these matters to-morrow after parade. First I’ll go to----Who’s that fellow just come in? ’Gad, it’s Clank--good fellow, Clank. I say, Clank, will you come to my wedding? Recollect I asked you to-night; be very particular about the date. Let me see; to-morrow’s the second Sunday after Ascot. I’ll lay any man three to two the match comes off before Goodwood.” D’Orville smiles calmly. He hears the woman whom he intends to make his wife talked of thus lightly, yet no feeling of bitterness rises in his mind against the drunken dandy. Would he not resent such mention of another name? But his finances will not admit of such a chance as the present wager being neglected; so he draws out his betting-book, and turning over its well-filled leaves for a clear place, quietly observes, “I’ll take it--three to two, what in?”