'Think I'll get up and propose a vote of thanks to the chairman.' 'There ought, at least, to be a time-limit,' said the neighbour, with a shrug.

'Where on earth did Findon pick him up ?' 'I say, what an awfully rum chap!' said the young son of the house--wondering--to Arthur Welby.

'What does he talk like that for ?' 'He doesn't talk badly,' said Welby, whose mouth showed the laughter within.
Meanwhile Fenwick--loud-voiced, excited--had brought his raid to a climax by an actual attack upon the stately Frenchman opposite, whose slight sarcastic look pricked him intolerably.

All other conversation at the table fell dumb.
Lord Findon coloured, and rose.
'You are a great deal more sure of my own opinion than I am myself,' he said, coldly.

'I am much obliged to you, but--shall we adjourn this conversation ?' As the men walked upstairs, Fenwick realised that he had blundered; he felt himself isolated and in disfavour.