“I am afraid,” said Sam frigidly, “that my time will be very much occupied for the next few months. Thank you very much,” he added, after a moment’s pause.
“Sam’s going to work,” said Sir Mallaby.
“Yes,” said Sam with dark determination. “Work is the only thing in life that matters!”
“Oh, come, Sam!” said Sir Mallaby. “At your age I used to think love was fairly important, too!”
“Love!” said Sam. He jabbed at his soufflé with a spoon. You could see by the scornful way he did it that he did not think much of love.
§ 4
Sir Mallaby, the last cigar of the night between his lips, broke a silence which had lasted a quarter of an hour. The guests had gone, and he and Sam were alone together.
“Sam,” he said, “do you know what I think?”
“No,” said Sam.
Sir Mallaby removed his cigar and spoke impressively. “I’ve been turning the whole thing over in my mind, and the conclusion I have come to is that there is more in this Windles business than meets the eye. I’ve known your Aunt Adeline all my life, and I tell you it isn’t in that woman to change her infernal pig-headed mind, especially about letting her house. She is a monomaniac on that subject. If you want to know my opinion, I am quite certain that your cousin Eustace has let the place to these people without her knowledge, and intends to pocket the cheque and not say a word about it. What do you think?”