Lightwood, bringing him to a subject they had expressly appointed to discuss: always the most slippery eel of eels of subjects to lay hold of.
“Yes, regarding my respected father,” assented Eugene, settling himself in his armchair. “I would rather have approached my respected father by candlelight, as a theme requiring a little artificial brilliancy; but we will take him by twilight, enlivened with a glow of Wallsend.”
He stirred the fire again as he spoke, and having made it blaze, resumed.
“My respected father has found, down in the parental neighbourhood, a wife for his not-generally-respected son.”
“With some money, of course?”
“With some money, of course, or he would not have found her. My respected father—let me shorten the dutiful tautology by substituting in future M.R.F. , which sounds military, and rather like the Duke of Wellington.”