"I suppose you meant to go into that little, damp, tumble-down Dower House, and watch over me from there; now didn't you, mummy ?" "I--I thought, when you came of age," faltered Lady Mary, "that I should give up Barracombe House to you, naturally.

I could come and stay with you sometimes--whether you were married or not, you know.
And--and, of course, the Dower House _does_ belong to me." "I won't hear of your going there," said Peter, stoutly, "whether I'm married or not.

It's a beastly place." "It's very picturesque," said Lady Mary, guiltily; "and I--I wasn't thinking of living there all the year round." "Why, where on earth else could you have gone ?" he demanded, regarding her with astonishment through the eyeglass.
"There are several places--London," she faltered.
"London!" said Peter; "but my father had a perfect horror of London.
He wouldn't have liked it at all." "He belonged--to the old school," said Lady Mary, meekly; "to younger people, perhaps--an occasional change might be pleasant and profitable." "Oh! to _younger_ people," said Peter, in mollified tones.

"I don't say I shall _never_ run up to London.

I dare say I shall be obliged, now and then, on business.