"I know nought of horses," snorted Mr. Fudby. "'Tis my clerk who appears to have remarked all the details." He sneered terrifically.
"Then pray, do me the honour of walking as far as the stables, Mr. Chilter. 'Twere as well to be certain about the mare. Mr.-ah—Fudby, your servant."
"And now, Mr. Chilter, I have a grudge against you," said Carstares, as they walked across the little garden.
"Me, sir? Oh—er—have you, Sir Anthony?"
He looked up and perceived that the gentleman was laughing.
"Yes, Mr. Chilter, a very serious grudge: you have described me as fat!"
Chilter nearly fainted.
"You, sir," he gasped, and stared in amazement.
"Also that I swear dreadfully in my speech, and that I have a scar running from my mouth to my chin."