" "Not a farthing more, I assure you," rejoined Ireton, pettishly; "we're all on the square here. Could you come to tea at my rooms one afternoon, or would you dine with me somewhere, and do a theatre? We could have a private room, of course, if you do not wish to be seen about London, and a box at the theatre. Of course there were goats. It was a bizarre sight, a miniature manor, replicated fully, walled in gray limestone. Couldn’t face me with what he’d done, the miserable blackguard. Ennison’s signet-ring had cut nearly to the bone.
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