"Of course it is," he said.
"The lady will be here shortly before midnight."
"Of course she will."
Hugh Ritson's face lost its smiles.
"Don't laugh like that—I won't have it!"
Mr. Drayton made another application to the spirit bottle, and then leaned toward Hugh Ritson over the arm of his chair.
"Look here," he said, "it's just a matter o' thirty years gone August since my mother put me into swaddling clothes, and deng my buttons if I'm wearing 'em yet!"
"What do you mean, my friend?" said Hugh.
Drayton chuckled contemptuously.
"Speak out plain," he said. "Give the work its right name. I ain't afraid for you to say it. A man don't give twenty pounds for the like o' that. Not if he works for it honest, same as me. I'm a licensed victualer, and a gentleman—that's what I am, if you want to know."