Ruth looked grave. "You did wrong, then."
"Silk is a beast."
"An excellent reason for not making him your guest; none for striking him at your own table."
"Perhaps not." Sir Oliver shrugged his shoulders. "Well, he can have his revenge, if he wants it."
"How so? As a clergyman he cannot offer to fight you, and as a coward he would not if he could."
"Is one, then, to be considerate with cowards?"
"Certainly, if you honour cowards with your friendship."
"Friendship! . . . The dog likes his platter and I suffer him for his talk. When his talk trespasses beyond sufferance, I chastise him. That's how I look at it."
"I am sorry, my lord, that Mr. Silk should make the third on your list this morning."
"Oh, come; you don't ask me to apologise to Silk!"