You think as you eat--heavily--and you miss a few things.

That little Seagrave girl is charming.

But you'd never discover it." Grandcourt slowly removed the fat cigar from his lips, rolled it meditatively between thick forefinger and thumb: "Do you know, Jack, that you've been saying that sort of thing to me for a number of years ?" "Yes; and it's just as true now as it ever was, old fellow." "That may be; but did it ever occur to you that I might get tired hearing it....

And might, possibly, resent it some day ?" For a long time Dysart had been uncomfortably conscious that Grandcourt had had nearly enough of his half-sneering, half-humourous frankness.
His liking for Grandcourt, even as a schoolboy, had invariably been tinged with tolerance and good-humoured contempt.

Dysart had always led in everything; taken what he chose without considering Grandcourt--sometimes out of sheer perversity, he had taken what Grandcourt wanted--not really wanting it himself--as in the case of Rosalie Dene.
"What are you talking about resenting ?--my monopolising your dinner partner ?" asked Dysart, smiling.