It wasn't what I had expected.
"Oh, up at my place, you know--Beadle Square," I said.
At this Doubleday fairly laughed.
"Supper at your place at Black Beadle Square?
Oh, rather! I'll come.
You'll come too, Crow, eh?
The young un's got a supper on on Thursday.
Oh, rather.

Put me down for that, old man." Could anything have been more mortifying?
Most invitations are received politely and graciously.

What there was to laugh at about mine I couldn't understand.
"Oh, yes, Crow's coming," I said, meekly.

"At least I hope so." "Oh, rather!" said Crow, beaming.

"I wouldn't miss it for a lot.