Sir Felix had been unlucky at cards on Saturday night, and had taken,
perhaps, a little too much wine. He was at any rate sulky, and in a
humour to resent interference. 'I wish you'd leave me alone,' he said,
'to manage my own business.'

'Is it not my business too?'

'No; you haven't got to marry her, and to put up with these people. I
shall make up my mind what to do myself, and I don't want anybody to
meddle with me.'

'You ungrateful boy!'

'I understand all about that. Of course I'm ungrateful when I don't do
everything just as you wish it. You don't do any good. You only set me
against it all.'

'How do you expect to live, then? Are you always to be a burden on me
and your sister? I wonder that you've no shame. Your cousin Roger is
right. I will quit London altogether, and leave you to your own
wretchedness.'

'That's what Roger says; is it? I always thought Roger was a fellow of
that sort.'

'He is the best friend I have.' What would Roger have thought had he
heard this assertion from Lady Carbury?

'He's an ill-tempered, close-fisted, interfering cad, and if he
meddles with my affairs again, I shall tell him what I think of him.