"Speaking for myself, sir——"
Though he had nothing of Alec but his profile, he went on.
"If you don't mind I shall not come. Sir George has tried to explain to you, and I've tried to explain to you, that there was nothing for it but the way I took. We've agreed it's no good going into all that again. Call it my pigheadedness if you like; I can't very well object to anything you call me; but I won't come. I'll come, if I'm still asked, when everything's settled up. And that should be a week at the outside."
Alec turned. It was plain that he would loathe his son-in-law, when he became that, to the end of his days.
"It will or it won't," he growled.
"It can't be much longer than that, sir."
"Can't it? Let me tell you how it can. I may have to swallow that insane yarn for the moment; you've left me very little choice—took dashed good care of that. But you've got to find somebody else crazy enough to get it down yet."
"What do you mean, Alec?" I interposed.
"Any English parson," Alec flung over his shoulder as he rose and walked away.
Derry sighed as his broad back disappeared into the hotel. When you have cut a knot it is difficult to tie it again. The straightforward course of his choice seemed little less crooked than the other. Almost it seemed a mistake after all.