“Come on,” whispered Jason in Wolf’s ear. “Let’s clear out of this! You see what he is⁠ ⁠… a great lubberly catchpole, not fit for anything except horse-racing! He’s got rid of Dimity and joined up with that waiter with the idea of annoying someone. He wouldn’t dare to insult anyone alone; but with that sly dog of a waiter⁠—you know what waiters are⁠—” He paused and glanced back furtively at his mother and at the two serving-men. “I’d like,” he added, “to see Valley well fooled by those rascals. He’d have to go home alone then; and a good thing, too!”

“You’ve got your knife into us all, Mr. Otter,” said Wolf slowly. “And I think it’s a mistake. It’s a waste of energy to hate people at the rate you do.”

But Jason’s attention was still so absorbed in watching Monk and the waiter, that he listened to him only with half an ear; and, indeed, shortly afterwards he shuffled off with barely a word of farewell.