"That! Bah!" Philip sent it whirling into the fire. "For that I apologise. If you had not been hurt—oh, heaven knows what I should have done! Where is your baggage, Father?"
"Here by now."
"Here? But no, no! It must go to Curzon Street!"
"My dear son, I thank you very much, but an old man is better with an old man."
Tom wheeled round.
"What's that? Who are you calling an old man, Maurry? I'm as young as ever I was!"
"In any case, it is to Curzon Street that you come, Father."
"As often as you wish, dear boy, but I'll stay with Tom." Then, as Philip prepared to argue the point, "No, Philip, my mind is made up. Sit down and tell me the tale of your ridiculous duel with Bancroft."
"Oh, that!" Philip laughed. "It was amusing, but scandalous. My sympathies were with my adversary."
"And what was the ode you threatened to read?"