His tremulous eyes bad, as they gazed at Dune across the room, the dumb worship of a dog adoring its master.
"I hear," he said in that husky voice that always sounded as though he were just swallowing the last crumbs of a piece of toast, "that you stopped Cardillac and the others coming round to my rooms the other night.

I can't tell you how I feel about it." "Rot," said Olva brusquely.

"If you were less of an ass they wouldn't want to come round to your rooms so often." "I know," said Bunning.

"I am an awful ass." He pushed his spectacles up his nose.

"Why did you stop them coming ?" he asked.
"Simply," said Olva, "because it seems to me that ten men on to one is a rotten poor game." "I don't know," said Bunning, still very husky, "If a man's a fool he gets rotted.