'You won't mind my pipe, will you--as you're a smoker yourself.

Mrs Gildea likes it best--And so do I.' Lady Bridget sniffed his raw tobacco and made a tiny moue.

'Well, if you prefer that--No, of course I don't mind.

I see,' she went on, 'that you favour the Maxim gun idea, Mr McKeith.

I understand that you're one of the Oppressors; and you and I wouldn't agree on that point.' Mr McKeith returned her look, all the hardness in his face softening to an expression of almost tender indulgence.
'We'd see about that.