Then the men laughed, and the landlord handed the bottles round, and all drank out of the necks, and puffed dense volumes of smoke from their pipes, and spat on the carpet.
And still the birds sung in the clear air without, and still the ghylls rumbled, and still the light wind souched through the grass, and still the morning sunlight shone over all.
The door opened, and Hugh Ritson entered, followed by the lawyer, Mr. Bonnithorne. There was a steely glimmer in his eyes as he stood just inside the threshold and looked round.
"Come, get out of this!" he said.
The men shuffled to their feet and were elbowing their way out. Drayton, who sat on the table, removed his pipe from between his teeth and called on them to remain.
Hugh Ritson stepped up to Drayton and touched him on the shoulder.
"I want to speak with you," he said.
"What is it?" demanded Drayton.
"I want to speak with you," repeated Hugh.
"What is it? Out with it. You've got the gift of the gab, hain't ye? Don't mind my friends."