"You speak plainly," growled Mallien with a crushing look.
"So do you," retorted Carrington, who was not to be crushed. "We are well matched, it seems."
"I am older than you and require to be treated politely," snapped the other.
"Because everyone has hitherto gone down before your bullying ways, confound you," replied the barrister, getting in his thrust. "Don't you find plain speech a refreshing novelty?"
"Ah! what," Mr. Leigh looked up. "Presently, Mrs. Jabber--presently. I am not yet hungry. Go away. Oh, Mallien, I beg your pardon! When did you arrive? Will you stop to luncheon?"
"And eat the potted tongue your housekeeper has been talking about to Dorinda?" queried Mallien with grim rudeness. "No thanks. I have more regard for my stomach."
The vicar scarcely heard the retort, as he had already returned to the study of his soiled parchment.
"Do you know of any spot in the parish where a circumvallation is discernible, Mr. Mallien?" he said, half to himself.
"No, sir, I don't. And as I have no aeroplane I can't soar to the clouds where your wits are at present. I shall take my leave straightway. Good day;" and he departed forthwith. Carrington, amused by Mallien's brusque leave-taking, picked up his cap to follow so judicious an example since the vicar, really being in the clouds, was unable to attend to chance visitors. "Good day, Mr. Leigh," he said, moving toward the door; but, no notice being taken, he repeated his farewell in louder tones. "Good day, Mr. Leigh."
"Oh, good day, good day, good day," snapped the student irritably.