"I can give you a good bottle of claret."
Axton exploded furiously.
"Confound it, Fanks, why do you treat me like a child?"
"Because you are one at present."
"Oh, indeed," said Roger, with a sneer, "from your point of view."
"From a common-sense point of view," replied Fanks, with great good-humour. "Come, don't be silly, my good fellow! You're sore because I don't worship your idol. Be easy, I'll do so when this case is finished."
"But if—"
"Oh, come to luncheon," said Fanks, and marched him off without further parley.
The luncheon was good, both as regards victuals and wine, while Fanks, in the capacity of host, behaved in a wondrously genial fashion, so by the time they finished and were smoking socially by the fire, Roger had quite recovered his temper, and felt ashamed of his fit of ill-humour.
"But you know," he said, guiltily, "I'm in love."