“It's a long-winded sort of epistle,” said Agincourt, now determined to try his patience to the uttermost. “I 'll have to show it to you.”
“Is it Yes or No?” asked O'Shea, eagerly, and almost choking himself with the effort to speak.
“That's pretty much how you take it. You see, my uncle is one of those formal old fellows trained in official life, and who have a horror of doing anything against the traditions of a department—”
“Well, well, well! but can't he say whether he 'll give me something or not?”
“So he does say it, but you interrupt me at every moment. When you have read through his letter, you 'll be able to appreciate the difficulties of his position, and also decide on what you think most conducive to your own interests.”
O'Shea groaned heavily, as he placed the remainder of the duck on his plate.
“What of your duel? How did it go off?”
“Beautifully.”
“Did your man behave well?”
“Beautifully.”