“So is George the coachman, so am I, so are half a dozen men in the village.”
“He certainly has some resemblance to the portrait.”
“I could find you a score more like it in London.”
“The long and short of it is, Armstrong, I cannot look to you to back me up in this.”
“To make Robert Ratman into Roger Ingleton?—I fear not. To back you up in all else, and be at your call whether you think well or ill of me—certainly.”
They parted angrily, though without a quarrel. Mr Armstrong had rarely felt himself so put out, and crashed away ruthlessly at his piano all the morning.
Roger, perhaps conscious that logic was not on his side, whatever instinct and feeling might be, retired disappointed and miserable to the park, and never remembered his appointment with the eager Tom.
At lunch-time he said to Captain Oliphant—
“When did you think of going to town?”
“At the end of the week, my boy. What do you say to coming?”