"The fact that you telegraph to Jack implies that there is something to telegraph about," said Comber. "There is nothing."
Toby did not choose to acknowledge that there could be any truth in this.
"I don't care a damn," he observed. "Either you go or I telegraph. Take your time, but please settle as soon as you can. I don't want to make things unpleasant, and if you say that your only aunt is very ill, and that you have been sent for, I won't contradict it—in fact, I'll bear you out if Kit makes a fuss."
"That is extraordinarily kind of you," said Lord Comber. "And since when have you become your sister-in-law's keeper in this astounding manner?"
Toby got quickly out of his chair, and stood very stiff and hot and uncompromising.
"Now, look here," he said: "my name is Massingbird, and so is Jack's, and I don't wish that it should be in everybody's mouth in connection with yours. People will talk; you know it as well as I do, and there is going to be no Comber-Conybeare scandal, thank you very much."
"You seem to be doing your level best to make one," said Lord Comber.
"Oh, I don't mind a Ted-Toby scandal," said Toby serenely. "I can take care of myself."
"And of Kit, it seems."
"And of Kit—at least, it seems so, as you say."