“Jolly fine to see you getting on—Ripping—what—”
“Take it easy,” Stephen said amusedly. “I don’t worry: you needn’t.”
Mrs. Latham pushed a chair to the bed, and Hugh sat down awkwardly, and put down on the small table near Stephen’s pillow a parcel. Stephen eyed it quizzically. “Grapes,” Hugh remarked lamely.
“Why have you come?” the elder demanded.
“To see you, old fellow,” his brother told him.
“What do you want?”
“Haven’t you told him?” Hugh asked Angela, in a palpable panic. She shook her head. “Funked it?”
“Certainly not,” she replied severely. “Merely I hadn’t got to it yet.”
“See here.” Stephen spoke crisply. “We’ll cut all the circumlocutions out. You needn’t be so damned crumpled up, Hugh. If you’ve come here with any idea of letting me down easy, you’ve wasted your time.”
He raised himself up on his pillows and faced his brother defiantly. Hugh blushed like a girl, and fumbled his cap—but sat speechless.