Sam's apologetic smile sweetened his face.
"Why," he said haltingly—"I'm sure I meant no offence, but—you see, I'm a very busy man—I forgot it."
"The hell you forgot it. D'ye expect me to believe that, man?"
"I'm afraid you'll have to."
Bohun was speechless for a moment, stricken dumb by a second seizure of fury. But again he calmed himself.
"Very well. I'll swallow that insolence for the present—"
"It wasn't meant as such, I assure—"
"Don't interrupt me! D'you hear? ... I've come for my answer. Yes, I've come down to that, Graham. If you can't accord me the common courtesy of a written reply—I've come to hear it from your mouth."
Sam nodded thoughtfully. "Mebbe," he said, "you forgot you have failed to accord me the common courtesy of any sort of a communication whatever for twenty years, Colonel Bohun. Even when my wife, your daughter, died, you ignored my message asking you to her funeral...."
"Be silent!" screamed the colonel. "Do you think I'm here to bandy words with you, fool? I demand my answer."