"From Dee, and Dad. And you say Bobs has taken you in. And Con. Especially Con. Why aren't you having supper with her?"
"Because I happen to be here." Quietly though the words were spoken a palpable hardening of his manner warned her against further impertinences along this line. For the moment she shied off, and, removing a macaroon which she had filched from his plate after once denying it to herself, from between her teeth, inquired casually:
"Got anything on your hip?"
Not yet fully initiate in the argot of his native land, Scott looked his inquiry.
"A drink. A flask."
"Do you want a drink?"
"Why the amazement, Grandfather dear?"
"Is that a recognised part of your dear Dr. Bobs's diet?"
"Bobs would have a fit. He doesn't know little Pat is out. But wouldn't a touch of hooch put a bit of a dash into the proceedings about now?"