“He did,” said Sir George.
“He's a silly ass,” responded T. X.
“I can understand all that”—the Chief Commissioner turned round—“but what I cannot understand is your apology to him.”
“There are so many things you don't understand, Sir George,” said T. X. tartly, “that I despair of ever cataloguing them.”
“You are an insolent cub,” growled his Chief. “Come to lunch.”
“Where will you take me?” asked T. X. cautiously.
“To my club.”
“I'm sorry,” said the other, with elaborate politeness, “I have lunched once at your club. Need I say more?”
He smiled, as he worked after his Chief had gone, at the recollection of Kara's profound astonishment and the gratification he strove so desperately to disguise.
Kara was a vain man, immensely conscious of his good looks, conscious of his wealth. He had behaved most handsomely, for not only had he accepted the apology, but he left nothing undone to show his desire to create a good impression upon the man who had so grossly insulted him.