My reply was more gentlemanly, more courteous, on a higher plane altogether.
I said, winningly: "Cannot we let bygones be bygones?"
From his remarks I gathered that we could not. I continued. I was under the unfortunate necessity of having to condense my speech. I was not able to let myself go as I could have wished, for time was an important consideration. Ere long, swallowing water at his present rate, the professor must inevitably become waterlogged.
"I have loved your daughter," I said rapidly, "ever since I first saw her ..."
"And he's a capital chap," interjected Ukridge. "One of the best. Known him for years. You'll like him."
"I learned last night that she loved me. But she will not marry me without your consent. Stretch your arms out straight from the shoulders and fill your lungs well and you can't sink. So I have come this morning to ask for your consent."
"Give it!" advised Ukridge. "Couldn't do better. A very sound fellow. Pots of money, too. At least he will have when he marries."
"I know we have not been on the best of terms lately. For Heaven's sake don't try to talk, or you'll sink. The fault," I said, generously, "was mine ..."
"Well put," said Ukridge.
"But when you have heard my explanation, I am sure you will forgive me. There, I told you so."