"Page one hundred and nineteen," answered the Doctor, who never forgot anything. This looked like business, and the Duke rose. He got away rather awkwardly. As usual, he departed to wreak vengeance on Mr. Barker.
"Barker," he began with emphasis, "you are an ass."
"I know it," said Barker, with humility. "I have been saying it over to myself for a quarter of an hour, and it is quite true. Say it again; it does me good."
"Oh, that is all. If you are quite sure you appreciate the fact I am satisfied."
"It dawned upon me quite suddenly a few minutes ago. Claudius has been here," said Barker.
"He has been there too," said the Duke. "He is there now."
"I suppose there is no doubt that we are talking about the same thing?"
"I don't know about you," said the other. "I am talking about Claudius and Countess Margaret. They never had a chance to speak all day yesterday, and now she asks him to come and read with her. Just as I was telling no end of a jolly story too." Mr. Barker's wrinkle wound slowly round his mouth. He had been able to shave to-day, and the deep furrow was clearly defined.
"Oh! she asked him to read, did she?" Then he swore, very slowly and conscientiously, as if he meant it.
"Why the deuce do you swear like that?" asked the Duke. "If it is not true that she has refused him, you ought to be very glad." And he stuffed a disreputable short black pipe full of tobacco.