“There,” said Trevor, “I’ll set all right to-morrow, I’m very sorry, Vanleigh; but things are all sixes and sevens here. Pratt, pass the claret. Landells, try that port.”
“Never drink port, dear boy,” said the Baronet.
“Then let’s go into the billiard-room; or what do you say, Van—would you prefer my room and a rubber?”
“Don’t much care for billiards to-night,” said Vanleigh. “By the way, though,” he said, “will your estimable housekeeper permit smoking in the dining-room.”
“Oh, come, Van,” said Sir Felix, “don’t be hard on your host.”
“Shall I ring for cigars, Dick?” said Pratt, reaching out his hand.
“Do, please,” was the reply. “Smoke where you like, gentlemen, and make yourselves at home. I don’t want to be hard on the old people. You see, it’s a particular case. I’ve been away for years. I left a boy, and they have had it all their own way. Oh, Lloyd, bring in the cigar boxes, and brandy and soda.”
“Here, sir?” said the butler, hesitating.
“Here? Yes, here directly,” said Trevor; and he looked annoyed as he caught a glance passing from Vanleigh to Sir Felix.
“It’s all right, Dick,” said Pratt. “It’s a nice estate, but weedy. Pull ’em up, one at a time.”