"Then wouldn't it be equally kind, sir, if you were to follow their example?"
Mrs. Billing's hen-like crow came out of the obscurity:
"She's got you there!"
The sound incited him. He became not more irritable, but cruder.
"Unhappily, that's beyond my power. I have to blush for my son Hugh."
Hugh spoke out of the darkness, his voice trembling with the fear of his own hardihood in once more braving Jove.
"Oh no, dad! You must take that back."
The father wheeled round in the new direction. He was losing command of the ironic courtesy he secured by his air of indifference, and growing coarser.
"My poor boy! I can't take it back. You're like myself—in that you can only be fooled when you put your trust in a woman."
It was Mrs. Brokenshire's turn: