'And no Meredith ball for you!' he cried.
Mr Rackstraw started as if some strong hand had plunged an auger into him.
'What?' he shouted.
Clarence shrugged his superbly-modelled shoulders in silence.
'Come, come,' said Mr Rackstraw, 'you wouldn't let a little private difference like that influence you in a really important thing like this football match, would you?'
'I would.'
'You would practically blackmail the father of the girl you love?'
'Every time.'
'Her white-haired old father?'
'The colour of his hair would not affect me.'