“No, not now.”
“Not now? Well, another time, then,” said the old man, whose voice seemed quite changed. “I’m afraid, Trethick, I have got a dreadful temper.”
“Horrible—sometimes,” said Geoffrey, smiling.
“But my bark is worse than my bite. I’m not so bad as I seem.”
“I know that, old fellow. I always have known it.”
“You went out about nine last night, and didn’t come back till four this morning.”
“You heard me come in then?”
“Yes. We have not been to bed all night. I have been out looking for Madge.”
“Indeed!” said Geoffrey, quietly, as he bit his lips to keep back a little longer that which he knew.
“I’m not speaking angrily, am I, my boy?”