"You have seen fit to mock at me, sir—"
"I?" interpolated Bancroft languidly. "My dear sir!"
"—and I resent it. There is that in your manner to which I object."
Bancroft's brows rose higher.
"To—which—you—object...." he echoed softly.
"I trust I make myself clear?" snapped Philip.
Bancroft raised his eyeglass. Through it he studied Philip from his toes to his head.
"Is it possible that you want satisfaction?" he drawled.
"More than that," retorted Philip. "It is certain."
Once again he was scrutinised. Mr. Bancroft's smile grew.