“How-d’ye-do, Nathan?” he said.
“What the devil brings you here?” was the answer.
Lemuel passed over his brother’s rudeness without notice. His mouth curled up at the corners with a mischievous smile.
“I thought you wished to see my letter,” he said.
“Why couldn’t you send it by post?”
“My wife wished me to take the opportunity of calling on you.”
“That’s a lie,” said Benjulia quietly. “Try another excuse. Or do a new thing. For once, speak the truth.”
Without waiting to hear the truth, he led the way into the room in which he had received Ovid. Lemuel followed, still showing no outward appearance of resentment.
“How did you get away from your office?” Benjulia inquired.
“It’s easy to get a holiday at this time of year. Business is slack, old boy—”