"Quite that," emphatically.
"It has been often done before: yours is not a solitary case."
"Solitary or not, there were elements about it inexcusable," says the old squire, beating his hand upon the table as though to emphasize his words.
"I wouldn't take it so much to heart if I were you," says Brian, who is really beginning to pity him.
"It has lain on my heart for twenty years. I can't take it off now," says the squire.
"You have evidently suffered," returns Brian, who is getting more and more amazed at the volcano he has roused. "Of course I can quite understand that if you were once more to find yourself in similar circumstances you would act very differently."
"I should indeed!—very differently. A man seldom makes a fool of himself twice in a lifetime."
("He's regretting her now," thinks Brian.)
But out loud he says,—
"You didn't show much wisdom, I daresay."