“What? Argument?” he cried harshly. He smote a bell. An old and trembling man doddered into the room. He pointed dramatically.
“Remove it,” he ordered.... I judged it best to remove myself.
And as I walked away along the corridor the notes of “Rendle, My Son” floated after me. Only at that distance I could not be quite sure that the name was Rendle.
OLD TORY
Spurn the Liberals: do not love them,
Son o’ mine.
We are very much above them,
Son o’ mine.
But we want to rule the nation;
So, for mere self-preservation,