But with Sheen it was otherwise. The admission made him if possible,
more uncomfortable than he had been before.

"Mitchell will be sick," said Stanning.

Sheen said nothing.

Stanning changed the subject.

"Well, at anyrate," he said, "give us some tea. You seem to have been
victualling for a siege."

"I'm awfully sorry," said Sheen, turning a deeper shade of red and
experiencing a redoubled attack of the warm shooting, "but the fact is,
I'm waiting for Drummond."

Stanning got up, and expressed his candid opinion of Drummond in a few
words.

He said more. He described Sheen, too in unflattering terms.

"Look here," he said, "you may think it jolly fine to drop me just
because you've got to know Drummond a bit, but you'll be sick enough
that you've done it before you've finished."

"It isn't that--" began Sheen.

"I don't care what it is. You slink about trying to avoid me all day,
and you won't do a thing I ask you to do."