Chapter Six
Dinner was the most tedious meal Octavius had ever endured in his life. He hadn’t liked Baron Rumpole before they sat down to dine, and he liked him even less afterwards.
Sextus had been spot on in his assessment of the man: he was crass. And not only was he crass, he was brash, boorish, and overflowing with belief in his own superiority. A completely unjustified belief, in Octavius’s opinion; an hour and a half at the dinner table had confirmed that Rumpole possessed neither wit nor breeding. It had also confirmed that the baron’s conversation had only two themes: either he was puffing himself up or he was putting someone else down.
Octavius had never been so glad to see the covers cleared from a table before.
Footmen placed the decanters within easy reach and withdrew. Oc
