Distin uttered a sharp ejaculation, and looked fiercely across at Gilmore.
“What did you do that for?” he cried.
“What?”
“Kick me under the table.”
“I did not.”
“Yes, you—”
“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” cried the rector reprovingly, “this is not a small boarding-school, and you are not school-boys. I was speaking.”
“I beg your pardon, sir,” cried Gilmore.
Distin was silent, and Macey, who was scarlet in the face; glanced across at Vane, and seemed as if he were going to choke with suppressed laughter, while Vane fidgeted about in his seat.
The rector frowned, coughed, changed his position, smiled, and went on, going back a little to pick up his words where he had left off.