"Yes, certainly," said McTaggart.
"I mean," said the Home Secretary, "it would be a great pity to waste a moment in beating about the bush. There's no sense in mere verbiage and slow approach to the essentials. Moreover, my time is short: I mean our time is short.... I mean there's not much time before dinner, and to tell the truth, that's why I came in here, so apparently suddenly.... What was I saying?"
Then, looking up and leaning back again in the chair: "But we need not go into all that. As I say, the great thing is to come to the point at once, isn't it?"
McTaggart was tired of standing up. He sat down in another chair, and said "Yes," with a look of expectancy not quite unmixed with approaching boredom.
"Well, Mr. McTaggart," went on the great statesman at last desperately, like a man who has determined to take a plunge. "You will excuse my being quite blunt and straightforward, won't you?"
"Of course," said McTaggart.
"I mean, we have already agreed that wasting time in preliminaries over a matter of this kind ..."
"But a matter of what kind?" said McTaggart, now roused—though his guilty soul told him well what was coming.
"Well, the fact is, Mr. McTaggart," said the Home Secretary, suddenly uncoiling himself and straightening out the joints until he stood up above the younger man—he felt it gave him a kind of moral advantage, and he needed it—"the fact is, it's only fair to tell you ... only the difficulty is how to put it. But one must be straightforward, mustn't one?"
And once more Mr. McTaggart said "Yes." But certain ancient traditions of the middle class were stirring in his blood and he very nearly added, "You doddering old fool."