Sir Giles glared for a few moments till the speaker's steady regard became too much for him.

Then, with a lurching movement, he turned away.
"No, I won't visit your brother! Why the deuce should I?
Do you think I belong to the rag, tag, and bobtail, that'll mix with the very scum of society so long as there's money about?
Do you think I'd lower myself to associate with fellows like you ?" "I guess you'd find it difficult," drawled Nap.
He still stood with his back to the tea-table.

He seemed to have forgotten the woman who sat so rigid behind him.

His fingers drummed a careless tattoo upon the table-edge.

He was unquestionably master of the situation, and that without much apparent effort.
And Sir Giles knew it, knew himself to be worsted, and that in his wife's presence.