Valentine muttered. “I’m sorry. It’s a dreadful story. Good Lord, yes! May I have some more brandy, please?”
“It’s not,” snapped Mr. Lapwing, “a dreadful story. It is a beautiful story. Help yourself.”
“Well,” said Valentine, “call it beautiful if you like. It’s your story. But I should hate it to happen to me.”
“There are,” said Mr. Lapwing, “consolations.”
Mr. Lapwing paced up and down.
“Consolations,” said Mr. Lapwing.
Valentine said: “Oh, certainly. I suppose there always are consolations. All the same, I should hate to be done out of my son like that. For that’s what it comes to.”
Mr. Lapwing was in a distant corner of the room, his face a shadow among shadows. He said: “Exactly. That is why, Valentine Chambers, I said there are consolations. My wife’s second husband was Lawrence Chambers.”
Valentine said: “Oh!”
Mr. Lapwing touched him on the shoulder.