He rather liked the "sir"; it signified both gratefulness and the chastened spirit. “You have the temperament,” he said. Toys! Delicate trifles! A sex of invalids. Kneebone. It’s to do with adolescence. Before I sit down, I have a toast to propose, which I am sure will be received, as it deserves to be, with enthusiasm. You seemed, he thought, to have some grievance which you would not explain and which he thought must arise from a misunderstanding. They were now in a sort of cellar, at one end of which was a door. Then he opened the study door and called “Mollie!” and returned to assume an attitude of authority on the hearthrug, before the blue flames and orange glow of the gas fire. “Let us sit down for a moment,” he had said. ‘Me, I am Mademoiselle Charvill, the granddaughter of Monsieur Jar-vis Re-men-ham.
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