"Can't you control that, Mr. Quinn?" Marsh asked.
"Control it! Begod, John Marsh, if you were a father you wouldn't ask such a damn silly question. Here, have a cigar! Henry's comin' back!"
When Henry entered the room, his father was lying back in his chair, puffing smoke into the air, while John Marsh was cutting the end of his cigar.
"The post's come in," he said.
"Anything for me?" his father asked.
"No. There was only one letter. For me. It's from Ninian Graham!"
"Nice chap, Ninian Graham," Mr. Quinn murmured.
"He wants me to go over to Boveyhayne for a while."
"Does he?"
"Yes. Gilbert Farlow's staying with them. I should like to go."