"Yes, indeed. You're so comical."
Mr. Hadley surrendered the guinea, looked at his empty left sleeve and made a wry face. "Lord, yes, I am comical enough. A lop-sided grotesque."
"That's not fair!" He had at last made her blush. "You know well I did not mean that. I think it makes you look—noble."
"It makes me feel a fool," said Mr. Hadley. "Lord, Susan, one arm's not enough to go round you."
"So we'll kill the Elstree hog for Christmas;" that apposite interruption came in her father's robust voice. Sir John strode rolling in. "What, Charles! In very good time, egad. You can come with me."
"What, sir, back to the swine? I profess Susan makes as pretty company."
Sir John was pleased to laugh. "Ay, the wench pays for her victuals, too.
Damme, Sue, you look good enough to eat." He chucked her chin paternally.
"Well, my lad, I ha' thought over that business and I'm taking horse to
ride over to Tetherdown."
"Oh Lord," said Mr. Hadley. "And what then, sir?"
"I'll talk to Master Geoffrey."
"Oh Lord," said Mr. Hadley again. "Do it delicately."