[Between his teeth—thrusting his hands into his trouser-pockets.] Very accommodating of him!
Bertram.
I tried to get on to my father from Dunning's—to ask his advice, I mean t'say—but he'd dressed early and gone to one of his clubs, and they couldn't tell me which one. [Halting and looking at his watch.] My suggestion is that you and I should struggle through this farce of a dinner as best we can—as if nothing had happened. I mean t'say—and that I should reserve the disclosure of your caddish conduct till to-morrow. You assent to that course, Mackworth? [Dabbing his forehead with his handkerchief.] Thank heaven, the announcement of the engagement hasn't appeared!
Philip.
[In a calm voice.] Bertram—[pointing to the chair on the left of the smoking-table] Bertie, old man—[seating himself easily upon the settee on the right] you're your sister's brother and I'm not going to lose my temper——
Bertram.
[Sneeringly.] My dear sir——
Philip.
[Leaning back and crossing his legs.] One thing I seem to grasp clearly; and that is that, while I've been endeavouring to conciliate you, and make a pal of you, you've been leaguing yourself with a tame detective with the idea of injuring me in some way with Ottoline and your father and mother. [Folding his arms.] That's correct, isn't it?
Bertram.