Kydd slammed down his glass. ‘Stuff ’n’ nonsense, Nicholas!’ He saw Renzi’s eyes glitter – it seemed it was costing him much to speak as he had.
‘And I,’ Renzi continued, with some difficulty, ‘I have had my choice of wranglers in reason, the company of my peers in breeding, the sweets of society, but in cleaving to these it grieves me to recall how I have so shamelessly neglected our friendship – all for the sake of the evanescent. Is this then an end to our association? Logic is a stern mistress and pronounces that, with the extinction of need, we must necessarily part, go our own ways—’
‘A pox on y’r damned logic!’ Kydd said angrily. ‘As a philosopher you’re nothin’ but a double-barrelled, copper-bottomed fool! Do ye think I don’t still want you as a friend, share the laughs ’n’ pains o’ life, enjoy while we can? Raise up y’r glass, Nicholas, an’ let’s drink to friendship.’
Renzi lifted his head. A reluctant half-smile spread and he replied, ‘I will – but this time it’s a friendship of equals.’
Glasses clinked. When they had regained composure Kydd fumbled in his coat. ‘Er, Nicholas, I’d value y’r opinion. Which o’ these invitations do ye think we should accept?’