“Well?” said Airey.
“Well?” said Lord Fotheringay.
“You didn’t complete your sentence. Was the shabby trick accepting your confidence?”
“The shabby trick was trying to win the affection of the young woman after I had declared to you my intention.”
“That was the shabby trick, was it?”
“I have no hesitation in saying that it was.”
“Very well. I hope that you have nothing more to confide in me beside this—your confidences have so far been singularly uninteresting.”
Lord Fotheringay got really angry.
“Let me tell you—” he began, but he was stopped by Airey.
“No, I decline to let you tell me anything,” said he. “You accused me just now of being so foolish as to listen to your confidences. I, perhaps, deserved the reproach. But I should be a fool if I were to give you another chance of levelling the same accusation against me. You will have to force your confidences on someone else in future, unless such as concern your liver. You confided in me that your liver wasn’t quite the thing. How is it to-day?”