“Never, upon my honour!” said Sir Anthony emphatically.
“And you never will again, my son,” said his lordship with a touch of vicarious regret.
“Thank God fasting,” advised Robin.
Sir Anthony laughed suddenly. “No, it is a privilege,” he said. “I would not forego your acquaintance, sir, for the worlds. My horizon broadens every hour.”
My lord smiled graciously. “That was inevitable,” he said. “It could not be otherwise.”
Sir Anthony walked to the window and back again, struggling with varied emotions. At last he turned, and made a gesture of despair. “Sir, you demoralise me. Until the privilege of knowing you was conferred upon me I protest I led a sober life, and my opinions were all respectable. I find myself walking now in your train, sir, caught up in I know not what lawless schemes, and I perceive with horror that the day approaches when I shall be lost to all sense of propriety and order.”
My lord acknowledged a compliment. “I had once some acquaintance with a Jesuit father,” he said reminiscently. “That was in the days of my youth. I profited by it. Yes, I learned some few things.”
“More than the Jesuit father taught you, I’ll lay my life,” said Robin.
“Yes,” admitted his lordship. “But then, my son, his brain had its limits.”
“Have you limitations my lord?” asked Sir Anthony.