“A pretty earl! No thank you, Miles. Richard’s son will be Earl⁠—no son of mine.”

O’Hara brought his fist down on the table with a crash.

“Damn Richard and his son!”

My lord picked up a jewelled pin and, walking to the glass, proceeded to fasten it in his cravat. The other followed him with smouldering eyes.

“Retired into your shell again?” he growled.

Carstares, with his head slightly on one side, considered the effect of the pin. Then he came back to his friend.

“My dear Miles, the long and short of it is that I am an unreasonable grumbler. I made my bed, and I suppose I must-on it.”

“And will ye be afther telling me who helped ye in the making of it?”