So he fell to the lot of Mr Deep, who took him to see Howel's hunters and dogs, and all the other wonders of Abertewey.
'Deep by name, and deep by nature,' was Owen's reflection, after his morning with his new acquaintance.

'He has managed to get all my secrets out of me, one excepted; but he has not confided any to me in return.
One thing I suspect, however, that he has a turn for horse-racing and betting.' Howel and Mr Simpson came home about six o'clock; and the whole party, with the addition of Mr Rice Rice, assembled at dinner.

Howel had ordered his valet to see that 'Captain Prothero' was properly dressed; and, accordingly, Owen was obliged to put on a smart waistcoat and tie belonging to Howel, which greatly embellished his outer man, and gave him increased favour in the eyes of Madame Duvet and Miss Simpson.
He was more astounded than ever when he saw his sister in her evening costume.
'What do you think of her, Owen ?' whispered Howel, as he stood literally gazing at her before dinner.
'I can't exactly say,' was the reply; 'but she is no longer Netta Prothero of the Farm.' 'I should imagine not!' said Howel.

'Pray don't let us talk of farms here, Owen.

I don't like conversation that smells of the shop.' 'Not even of the old place where we used to steal lollilops ?' asked Owen, maliciously.
Howel turned away for fear of being overheard, and devoted himself quite as much to Madame Duvet, as Captain Dancy still did to Netta; and Owen wondered on.
Again he looked at Netta, as she sat curled up on a sofa, a mere child in appearance, but so pretty, in white, with some sort of cherry-coloured ornaments for dress and head, that no one could possibly have recognised her as the country belle of twelve months ago.