“You schoolmasters!” he cried. “Your holidays have lasted too long! Teachers of Latin, like you, always get fidgetty when you’re not with your boys.”

“I don’t teach Latin,” murmured Wolf, in a voice almost as silky as the Squire’s own. Anger was mounting up within him like a black wave.

“Do you want to know why I advise you to go back to London?” went on Jason, disregarding this protest. “Not because of Urquhart⁠—though I’m tired of warning you against him ⁠—but because if you go about with me much longer, you’ll wake up one fine morning with your merry little ways fallen from you like a snake’s skin.”

“What ways?” asked Wolf.

“Oh, do shut up, Jason! Do stop making a bloody ass of yourself!” interjected Darnley.