Also the haughty bearing of Brendon pleased him, and he unbent so far as to advance to George with outstretched hand.
"We had rather a rough interview, George," he said, "so I have invited you to smoke the pipe of peace."
Brendon shook the old man's hand quietly, but without much enthusiasm. He could not conjecture what Derrington meant by behaving in a way so different to that he usually adopted. His host felt the slack hand-clasp, and winced on seeing the want of response in Brendon's face. Queerly enough Derrington, contrary to accepted opinion, had a heart, and was so much taken with George that he wished to draw him to himself. Still, he could not but admit that seeing how he had treated the young fellow in the past it was not to be expected that Brendon would act the part of an affectionate relative immediately. Derrington rather admired George for his uncompromising attitude.
"Dinner will be ready soon," said the old lord, waving Brendon to a seat; "only our two selves. I wish to consult you."
"Consult me?" George could not keep the astonishment out of his face.
"It's rather late in the day, is it not?" remarked Derrington, dryly, "but you see I am old, George, and have not much time to spare. Yes, I wish you to consult with me after dinner about--but that can come in the course of our conversation. Meantime, let us talk of anything you like."
"The weather, sir?"
"No, confound you," snapped Derrington, with a flash of his old irritable self; "talk of wine, wit, and women if you like, but spare me platitudes."
Brendon stared at his shoes and smiled under his mustache. "I do not think I can say anything very original about the subjects you mention," he said quietly.
"Talk of Miss Ward, then. You can be original on that point."