Henry's eyebrows contracted. "I was under the impression," he said, "that we had already settled that part of the affair."
"You and Laura may have settled it," replied Tony. "In important matters of this sort I always prefer a little time for reflection."
Henry pushed back his chair from the table. "And may I inquire," he asked with an obvious attempt at irony, "what you would consider 'a little time'? It seems to me that six years ought to be a sufficient period in which to decide what one intends to do with one's self." He paused. "Unless, of course, you prefer to go on doing nothing."
"Nothing!" echoed Tony reprovingly. "My dear Henry! What a way in which to describe my multifarious activities."
With the stern self-control engendered by a public career Henry managed to keep his temper. "I am speaking of useful and serious work in the world," he replied. "You did your duty in the war certainly, but since then you seem to have devoted your life entirely to frivolous amusements."
"There is precious little frivolity about motor-racing," objected Tony. "You should have been with me to-day when the back-axle went."
"Thank you," said Henry stiffly. "I have something better to do with my time." He looked across at Guy. "I think you agree with me that the manner in which Tony is wasting his life is nothing short of deplorable."
"Certainly I do," said Guy. "I was telling him so at dinner last night."
Henry nodded. "The whole family are of the same opinion." He turned back to Tony. "It isn't as if you were a private individual and able to do what you please. A great position has its obligations as well as its privileges. The Conways have always played an important part in public life, and as head of the family it is your duty to see that this tradition is maintained."
Tony looked at him with a certain amount of admiration. "If I only had your gifts, Henry," he said, "I shouldn't hesitate a moment, but I don't believe I could ever learn to talk as you do."