"That's delicious," said Haigh when he had finished reading.
"But the insults, señor," said the anarchist, turning round again.
"Beautiful!"
"Have you read those burning gibes?"
"The humour of the thing's transcendental."
"Señor Haigh, look at that letter calmly."
"I am doing. Isn't the satire something lovely? My mellow voice! Ho, ho, ho! And Cospatric's experiences as a photographer's bottle-washer! Grand!"
The anarchist began to stamp about in a new access of fury, and so Haigh changed his tone.
"Laugh when you're licked, my dear fellow," said he. "Believe me, it's the best way, and Lord knows I ought to be an authority."
"We're differently constituted, señor."