There remained him nothing but violence, and in violence he was exceedingly at home--being a member of the Hell Fire Club and having served in the Bold Bucks under his Grace of Wharton.
"You damned, infernal marplot! You blasted meddler!" he swore, and some other things besides, froth on his lips, the veins of his brow congested.

"What affair was this of yours ?" "I thought you desired me for a witness," Mr.Caryll reminded him.
"I did, let me perish!" said Rotherby.

"And I wish to the devil I had bit my tongue out first." "The loss to eloquence had been irreparable," sighed Mr.Caryll, his eyes upon a beam of the ceiling.
Rotherby stared and choked.

"Is there no sense in you, you gibbering parrot ?" he inquired.

"What are you--an actor or a fool ?" "A gentleman, I hope," said Mr.Caryll urbanely.