“Have you a little soda-water in the house?” said Wrigley.
“Yes; bring some soda-water and the brandy,” cried Jessop, with an idiotic laugh which contradicted all that his friend had said.
Janet’s anger was rising now.
“We have no soda-water or brandy,” she replied.
“Never mind, Mrs Reed. Let me get him up to his room.”
“You sit down and hold your tongue,” cried Jessop, with tipsy sternness. “I’m master of my own house.”
“Of course, dear boy. I beg your pardon, I’m sure.”
“Granted! I’ll let you see I’m not going to be dictated to by haughty, ill-tempered women. Madam, my friend wants some soda and brandy. Get it at once.”
Wrigley gave Janet a nod and a smile, as if to say, “Better humour him.”
“All right, dear boy,” he said; “I won’t have any now.”