“His lordship! Ay, it is. I beg your pardon, my lord, but—I’m very sorry to interfere with your lordship, but——”
“You’re in my way, Goodenough.” For John had got across his path, and barred progress. “Of course I must stand still if you impede my steps, but I do it under protest. I only want to repass.”
“You can’t come this way, my lord. I’m sorry, but it’s her Excellency’s strict orders. You must go back, my lord.”
“I am going back—or I was till you stopped me.”
“Back to where you came from, my lord.”
“I came from Scarsmoor and I’m going back there, Goodenough.”
“Where you came from last, my lord.”
“No, no, Goodenough. At all events, her Excellency has no right to drive me into the sea.” Lynborough’s tone was plaintively expostulatory.
“Then if you won’t go back, my lord, here we stay!” said John, bewildered but faithfully obstinate.
“Just your tactics!” Lynborough observed to Norah, a keen spectator of the scene. “But I’m not so patient of them from Goodenough.”