"Just going."

Wonderful father! A moment before there had been not the remotest
sign of Harold ever going. Now Harold is very anxious to go. He is
very anxious to go but, like Robert, he will not abandon the field
without defiance of the authority next above his own. While he
collects his things he whistles. Rosalie shudders (but deliciously
as one in old Rome watching the gladiators).

"Do you see the clock, sir?"

"Yes."

"Well, quicken yourself, sir. Quicken yourself."

"The clock's fast."

"It is not fast, sir. And let me add that the clock with which you
could keep time of a morning, or of any hour in the day, would have
to be an uncommonly slow clock."

Harold with elaborate unconcern adjusts his trouser clips. "I should
have thought that was more a matter for the Bank to complain of,
if necessary. I may be wrong, of course----"

"You may be wrong, sir, because in my experience you almost invariably
are wrong and never more so than when you lad-di-dah that you are
right. You may be wrong, but let me tell you what you may not be.
You may not be impertinent to me, sir. You may not lad-di-dah me,
sir."