They're not your sort.

Seems like turning you out of your own house, though." "It is of no consequence," Andrew said coldly.

"I shall be perfectly comfortable." "You see," Cecil continued, "they're not keen on sport at all, and you don't play bridge--" Andrew had already disappeared.

Cecil turned back into the hall and lit a cigarette.
"Phew! What a relief!" he muttered to himself.

"If only he has the sense to keep away all the time!" He rang the bell, which was answered by a butler newly imported from town.
"Clear away all this mess, James," Cecil ordered, pointing in disgust to the wet places upon the floor, and the still dripping southwester, "and serve tea here in an hour, or directly my friends arrive--tea, and whisky and soda, and liqueurs, you know, with sandwiches and things." "I will do my best, sir," the man answered.