Mrs Jones was very great on that occasion. 'You are afraid of
Reginald Dobbes,' she said severely.
'I think I am rather.'
'Of course you are. How came it to pass that you of all men should
submit yourself to such a tyrant?'
'Good shooting, you know,' said Silverbridge.
'But you dare not call an hour your own,--or your soul. Mr Dobbes
and I are sworn enemies. We both like Scotland, and unfortunately
we have fallen into the same neighbourhood. He looks upon me as
the genius of sloth. I regard him as the incarnation of tyranny.
He once said there should be no women in Scotland,--just an old one
here and there, who would know how to cook grouse. I offered to go
and cook his grouse!
'Any friend of mine,' continued Mrs Jones, 'who comes down to
Crummie-Toddie without staying a day or two with me,--will never be
my friend any more. I do not hesitate to tell you, Lord
Silverbridge, that I call for your surrender, in order that I may
show my power over Reginald Dobbes. Are you a Dobbite?'
'Not thorough-going,' said Silverbridge.
'Then be a Montacute Jones-ite, or a Bocassen-ite, if, as
possible, you prefer a young woman to an old one.
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