"His air of cold cynicism annoys me."
"Well, Tom?"
"In fine sir, not to particularise, Mr. Dalroyd, within and without and altogether, I find a trifle irksome."
"And so, Tom, for these trivialities, you picked a quarrel with a man who is a notorious and deadly duellist?
"I believe I objected to his method of dealing cards, among other things, sir."
"And now, Tom," said the Major, sitting down beside the sun-dial and crossing his legs, "may I suggest you tell me the real reason—your true motive?"
The Viscount began to pull at and arrange the rich lace of his steenkirk with gentle fingers.
"Gad save my poor perishing soul!" he sighed, "but you're a very persistent nunky!"
"Tom," said the Major softly, "you—you love my lady Betty, I think?"
The Viscount, sitting beside him, was silent a moment, still pulling gently at the lace of his cravat.