The Squire disregarded this completely. With a caressing and rapturous hand he began himself turning the pages, running his forefinger along certain sentences, as if he were blind and the letters stood out in relief.

“Are you tired with your walk?” Jason remarked, addressing Wolf, and politely offering him his chair. “I ought not to have abused anyone like that; especially anyone who has such good wine,” he added, in a low meditative voice.

“You’ll see how I’ve managed, Sir, about the way it ends,” said Wolf, still itching to play barber to Mr. Urquhart’s disorganized poll. “It ends with the Puddletown incident; but I’ve added a sort of conclusion⁠ ⁠… rather a bitter one, I fear, but I thought you wouldn’t mind?”

“Wanted the last word, eh, me boy? It ain’t the first time you’ve wanted that! No, no, no, no⁠ ⁠… Gad! I have no objection!” As he spoke, the Squire lifted his head and stared haughtily at Jason.