"Sir," said he, "ye've a singular unpleasant voice." Mr.Craske, thrown out of countenance by so much directness, could only stare; the same did the others, though some few tittered, for Mr.Craske, when all was said, was held in no great esteem by the discriminant.
Mr.Caryll lowered his glass.

"I've heard it said by the uncharitable that ye were a lackey before ye became a plagiarist.

'Tis a rumor I shall contradict in future; 'tis plainly a lie, for your voice betrays you to have been a chairman." "Sir--sir--" spluttered the poetaster, crimson with anger and mortification.

"Is this--is this--seemly--between gentlemen ?" "Between gentlemen it would not be seemly," Mr.Caryll agreed.
Mr.Craske, quivering, yet controlling himself, bowed stiffly.

"I have too much respect for myself--" he gasped.
"Ye'll be singular in that, no doubt," said Mr.Caryll, and turned his shoulder upon him.
Again Mr.Craske appeared to make an effort at self-control; again he bowed.