"Quite so. I only wanted to see how the novel was coming out before somebody takes the book away from me."
"You talk like a pint of shoe-strings," growled Portlaw; "you'd better find out whose horse has been denting the lawn all over and tearing off several yards of sod."
"I know already," said Malcourt.
"Well, who had the nerve to—"
"None of your bally business, dear friend. Are you riding over to Pride's to-day?"
"Yes, I am."
"I think I'll go, too."
"You're not expected."
"That's the charm of it, old fellow. I didn't expect to go; they don't expect me; they don't want me; I want to go! All the elements of a delightful surprise, do you notice?"
Portlaw said, irritably: "They asked Mrs. Malcourt and me. Nothing was said about you."