But there was between the cousins another far less obvious antipathy⁠—coming from the unseizable family resemblance, which each perhaps resented; or from some half-consciousness of that old feud persisting still between their branches of the clan, formed within them by odd words or half-hints dropped by their elders. And Jolly, tinkling his teaspoon, was musing: “His tiepin and his waistcoat and his drawl and his betting⁠—good Lord!”

And Val, finishing his bun, was thinking: “He’s rather a young beast!”

“I suppose you’ll be meeting your people?” he said, getting up. “I wish you’d tell them I should like to show them over B.N.C. ⁠—not that there’s anything much there⁠—if they’d care to come.”

“Thanks, I’ll ask them.”

“Would they lunch? I’ve got rather a decent scout.”

Jolly doubted if they would have time.