“I do not see the comedy of what is disreputable and dishonorable. His father will be most cruelly distressed.” “He should give us more money then. We must do what we can to keep ourselves; Poodle never helps us. Well--hardly ever.” Hurstmanceaux emitted a sound very like a big dog’s growl. “Otterbourne has been endlessly good to you. It is no use for him or anybody else to fill a sieve with water.” “Why don’t he give us the house? We are obliged to pay fifteen hundred a year for this nutshell, while he lives all alone in that huge place.” “Why should he not live in his own house? What decent gentleman would have Cocky under his roof?” “You have no kind of feeling, Ronnie. I ought to have Otterbourne House. I have always said so. I can’t give a ball here. Not even a little dance. Poodle might keep his own apartments, those he uses on the ground floor there, but we ought to have all the rest.” “He allowed you to have that ball there the other night, and all the cost of it fell on him.” “That is a great deal for him to do certainly! To lend us the house once in a season when it is our right to live in it altogether!” “He does not think so.” “No! Horrid selfish old man! Pretending to be young, too, with his flossy white hair and his absurd flirtations. Would you believe that he even made difficulties about our keeping our horses at his mews!” “He probably knew that it meant his paying the forage bills. The duke is most generous and kind, and I think you ought to be more grateful to him than you are.” “Oh, rubbish!” said Mouse, infinitely bored. “People who hate you to amuse yourself, who want you to live on a halfpenny a day, and who say something disagreeable whenever they open their lips, are always considered to be good to one. There is only one really good-natured thing that we ever wanted Poodle to do, and that was to let us live in Otterbourne House; and he has always refused. I am certain he will go on living for twenty years merely to keep us out of it!” “Don’t wish him in his grave. As soon as your husband gets Otterbourne House he will sell it to make an hotel. A company has already spoken to him.” “Isn’t it in the entail?” “Perhaps. I cannot say. Ask your lawyer. But I know that an hotel company has made overtures to him for purchase or lease in event of the duke’s death--may it be many a day distant! He is an honest gentleman, and you and your husband and your cursed cad out of Dakota have made him look to English society as if he were capable of having sold the honor of entrance to his house for a mess of pottage for his son’s thirsty maw.” “My dear Ronald, how you excite yourself! Really there is no reason.” Hurstmanceaux looked at her very wistfully.