'
'Nor in me,' says Neville Landless, though not so freely; or
perhaps so carelessly. 'But if Mr. Drood knew all that lies behind
me, far away from here, he might know better how it is that sharp-
edged words have sharp edges to wound me.'
'Perhaps,' says Jasper, in a soothing manner, 'we had better not
qualify our good understanding. We had better not say anything
having the appearance of a remonstrance or condition; it might not
seem generous. Frankly and freely, you see there is no anger in
Ned. Frankly and freely, there is no anger in you, Mr. Neville?'
'None at all, Mr. Jasper.' Still, not quite so frankly or so
freely; or, be it said once again, not quite so carelessly perhaps.
'All over then! Now, my bachelor gatehouse is a few yards from
here, and the heater is on the fire, and the wine and glasses are
on the table, and it is not a stone's throw from Minor Canon
Corner. Ned, you are up and away to-morrow. We will carry Mr.
Neville in with us, to take a stirrup-cup.'
'With all my heart, Jack.'
'And with all mine, Mr. Jasper.' Neville feels it impossible to
say less, but would rather not go. He has an impression upon him
that he has lost hold of his temper; feels that Edwin Drood's
coolness, so far from being infectious, makes him red-hot.
Mr. Jasper, still walking in the centre, hand to shoulder on either
side, beautifully turns the Refrain of a drinking song, and they
all go up to his rooms. There, the first object visible, when he
adds the light of a lamp to that of the fire, is the portrait over
the chimneypicce.
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