"And feline pluck, sir," he maintained.
Sir Beverley scowled at him.

He could never brook an argument.

"Oh, get away, Piers!" he said.

"You talk like a fool." Piers turned his whole attention to devouring crumpets, and there fell a lengthy silence.

He rose finally to set down his empty plate and help himself to some more tea.
"That stuff is poisonous by now," said Sir Beverley.
"It won't poison me," said Piers.
He drank it, and returned to the hearth-rug.