"The women don't seem to be taking much truck with Warboise or his Petition. See him over there, with Plant and Ibbetson only.… And Ibbetson's only there because his wife has more appetising fish to fry. But she's keeping an eye on him—watch her! Poor woman, for once she's discovering Rumour to be almost too full of tongues."
"I wonder you're not over there too, lending Warboise support," suggested Brother Biscoe. "Royle told me last night that you had joined the Protestant swim."
"But I am here, you see," Brother Copas answered sweetly; "and just for the pleasure of doing you a small service."
Even this did not disarm the old man, whose temper was malignant.
"Well, I wish you joy of your crew. A secret drinker like Plant, for instance! And your friend Bonaday, in his second childhood—"
"Bonaday will have nothing to do with us."
"Ah?" Brother Biscoe shot him a sidelong glance. "He's more pleasantly occupied, perhaps?—if it's true what they tell me."
"It never is," said Brother Copas imperturbably; "though I haven't a notion to what you refer."
"But surely you've heard?"
"Nothing: and if it concerns Bonaday, you'd best hold your tongue just now; for here he is."