The question, he knew well, was sarcastically asked, the flavour of irony in the "permission to inquire" was not there by accident.

To speak like that implied contempt of his opposition; he felt that he was being treated like a child over some nursery rebellion, in which, subsequently, there is no real possibility of disobedience.

He felt his anger rising in spite of himself.
"If you refer to it as rubbish, sir, there is the end of the matter." "Ah! I thought we should soon agree," said Lord Ashbridge, chuckling.
"You mistake me," said Michael.

"There is the end of the matter, because I won't discuss it any more, if you treat me like this.

I will say good night, if you intend to persist in the idea that you can just brush my resolves away like that." This clearly took his father aback; it was a perfectly dignified and proper attitude to take in the face of ridicule, and Lord Ashbridge, though somewhat an adept at the art of self-deception--as, for instance, when he habitually beat the golf professional--could not disguise from himself that his policy had been to laugh and blow away Michael's absurd ideas.