He stuck his hands in his pockets and began to whistle softly with an air of supreme discomfiture.
“Yes, Lascelles, I intend to do so. In fact, I find it difficult to say all that I should like to do upon the subject, without actually saying more than one who was at school with your father would feel it desirable to say to a young man who has his own way to make in the world.”
“Say just as much as you like,” said Jim. “I know I have made an ass of myself. And of course I haven’t a leg to stand on, really. And I expect the old cat will have me on the carpet too.”
Cheriton dropped his eyeglass with an air of dignified agitation.
“I beg your pardon, Lascelles,” said he. “To whom do you refer?”
“To that damned old woman!” said Jim Lascelles, with an unabashed air.
“Can it be possible that you refer to Caroline Crewkerne, my oldest friend?”
“I mean the aunt of Nature’s immortal work,” said Jim, coolly. “I really can’t help it; I feel that I must curse somebody this morning. And as she is bound to curse me, I don’t see why I shouldn’t curse her.”
“Your habit of explanation, Lascelles, is decidedly unfortunate.”
“Well, tell me the worst, Lord Cheriton. I suppose you withdraw your offer; and I am to be bundled out neck and crop with my canvas and forbidden to come here again?”