"No," said Melville bluntly. "I want to see you."
Sir Geoffrey picked up the paper again and affected to be more interested in it than in the conversation.
"Want to see me, do you? On business?"
"Yes; on business," Melville answered, a little nettled by his uncle's nonchalance.
"Ah!" said Sir Geoffrey, and paused. "Whose business is it this time?" he enquired presently. "Are you principal or agent on this occasion?"
His affectation of being rather bored by the whole thing emphasised the affront and brought the blood to Melville's cheek.
"Principal," he replied laconically, and, unasked, sat down.
"That simplifies the issue," said Sir Geoffrey, laying down one paper and picking up another. "Go on, man; say what you want. You are not usually lacking in effrontery."
Melville was always conscious of his own meanness when he was in his uncle's presence, always found it difficult to face the steady eyes and honest scorn of the old man; it was characteristic of him, too, that he always felt at a disadvantage unless in a struggle of wits he was able to make his opponent, whoever he might be, lose his temper first, and he could seldom do this with Sir Geoffrey. He grew hot and angry now under the lash of the bitter sarcasm in the coldly spoken words, but they had the effect of bringing him to the point.
"I've come down again for some money," he said coarsely.