Guisborough jumped up from his chair. "Oh, do, for God's sake drop that!" he shouted. "You only do it to annoy me!"
Correctly divining that this remark was addressed not to him, but to Miss Guisborough, Hemingway preserved a discreet silence.
"Before you allowed yourself to be seduced by visions of power, and rank, it didn't annoy you!" Miss Guisborough retorted. "You're a rotten renegade, Lance!"
"Begging your pardon," intervened Hemingway, "can you help us, Miss Guisborough, to fix the time when your brother got back to this house this evening?"
"This evening?" She stared at him. "About half-past seven, more or less. Why?"
Hemingway raised his brows at Guisborough. "Well, my lord?"
"I daresay. I don't know. I stopped to have one at a pub on the way."
"Which pub would that be, my lord?"
"Hell, how should I know? Some place in the King's Road!"
"Fancy! What had the Ritz done to offend you?" mocked his sister.