
“Really, Plenmeller, that borders on the offensive!” protested the Major, perceiving that Mr. Drybeck had taken umbrage at it.
“Not at all. It was merely the truth. You aren't suggesting, are you, that Mr. Drybeck lived for long enough in the last century to think the truth something too indecent to be acknowledged? That seems to me very offensive.”
The Major was nonplussed by this, and could think of nothing say. Mr. Drybeck gave a laugh that indicated annoyance rather than amusement, and said: “You will forgive me, Plenmeller, if I say that the truth in this instance is that Warrenby's presence in our midst does not—though I think it hardly adds to the amenities of Thornden—occupy my mind as it seems to occupy yours. I am sorry to be obliged to tamper with the dramatic picture you have painted, but honesty compels me to say that my feeling in the matter is one of indifference.”
The Major turned his eyes apprehensively towards Gavin, fearing that it could scarcely have escaped his acute perception that Mr. Drybeck's loathing of his professional rival and social neighbour was fast approaching the proportions of monomania. But Gavin only said, with a flicker of his unkind smile: “Oh, I do so much admire that attitude! I should adopt it myself, if I thought I could carry it off. I couldn't, of course: you would have to be a Victorian for that.”
“Now, now, that's enough about Victorians!” interposed the Major. “Next, you'll be calling me a Victorian!”
“No, you have never laid claim to the distinction.”
“I am not ashamed of it,” stated Mr. Drybeck.
“How should you be? The Squire isn't. By what means, do you suppose, did Warrenby obtain a foothold in Old Place? The Ainstables do receive him, you know. I find that so surprising: I'm sure they wouldn't receive me if I weren't a Plenmeller. Do you think Sampson Warrenby employed devilish wiles to induce the Squire to include him on his visiting list, or are we all equal, seen from the Olympian heights of Old Place? What a coruscating suspicion! I can hardly bear it.”
