"You American architects are doing great things, 'pon my soul," he added luminously.

Brock stuck his eyeglass in tighter and hemmed with raucous precision.

Mrs.Medcroft stiffened perceptibly.
"Oh, but he's Mr.Roxbury Medcroft, the great English architect," cried Mrs.Rodney, in some little confusion.

Odell-Carney suddenly remembered.
He glared hard at Brock; the Rodneys saw signs of disaster.
"Oh, by Jove, are _you_ the fellow who put those new windows in the Chaucer Memorial Hall?
'Pon me soul! Are you the man who did that ?" There was no mistaking his manner; he was distinctly annoyed.
Brock faced the storm coolly, for his friend Medcroft's sake.

"I am Roxbury Medcroft, if that's what you mean, Mr.Odell-Carney." "I know you're Medcroft, but, hang it all, wot I asked was, did you design those windows?
'Gad, sir, they're the laughing sensation of the age.