Meanwhile—or later, between church and luncheon—Waltheof, in the billiard-room, was chalking a cue. "It will be a good lesson," he said. "He needs a shaking up."
"He'll get a shaking up," said the duke. "I say, Nibbetts, won't Carleigh get a shaking up?"
"It's wicked—all of it," declared Kneedrock gruffly. "I've never loved a woman in my life"—which was a lie—"but I've notions about things. Nina is unreasonable."
"You think so because you've never loved a woman," said Sir George.
"A woman is unreasonable because she is a woman—" began Nibbetts, but Sir George cut in before he could finish:
"And a man's unreasonable because she is a woman, too," he laughed. "Don't preach, but walk out and find them, if you feel it is really your duty to chaperon your cousin. All I can say is what I've often said before—poor Darling!"
"No, I won't go out and find them," Kneedrock refused, pitching his huge bulk down on the window seat. "It's none of my business."
"More's the pity," was Sir George's comment. "I'll tell you what I think. It ought to be your business. That's what every one of us thinks."
An ugly white look overspread the viscount's rugged visage, and the subject was dropped.