The ink ran over the paper, and over Heyton's fingers.
"What the devil!" he exclaimed, angrily.
"I beg your pardon, my lord! I'm very sorry; very sorry; it was dreadfully clumsy of me.

Dear, dear; it's all over your lordship's hand! Here, wipe it on this, my lord!" In his agitation and embarrassment, Mr.Jacobs actually caught hold of Heyton's hand and pressed it on a sheet of paper.
"Tut, tut," he said.

"I thought it was blotting-paper! Here it is! I really am so sorry--never did such a thing in my life before!" "Damned clumsy of you!" growled Heyton.

"I'm in a beast of a mess! Where's a cloth ?" "Pray take my handkerchief, my lord," said Mr.Jacobs, offering it.
At this moment, Celia entered the room.

She would have drawn back at sight of the two men; but Heyton called to her over his shoulder.
"Hi! Have you got a cloth?
The ink's upset----" She ran to a drawer and took out a clean duster; and Heyton, swearing under his breath, wiped the remainder of the ink from his fingers.
"I'd better go and wash it," he said; and he went out of the room.
"Tut, tut!" said Mr.Jacobs.