Thinking that Edgerly might wish to "assist her" again I made haste to offer her my arm; but she declined it with a faint smile, saying she had no need of help. Her window was open and she left the balcony as she had entered it, closing the glass doors after her.
"You were not very polite to me, a moment ago," said Edgerly, in clear, cutting tones. "I thought it the part of a gentleman not to notice it while the lady was present, but now I am obliged to express my opinion of you; which is," he paused a moment, looking me squarely in the eye, "that you are a cur!"
I grappled with him almost before the words were out of his mouth. We went down together in a heap, his hand at my throat, mine at his. I would have thrown him over the railing, or he would have thrown me, in an instant more.
A voice interrupted us—the voice of Miss May, through her window.
"Mr. Camwell, will you kindly call a chambermaid," she said.
It was like the sudden appearance of a flag of truce in the midst of a battle. Edgerly muttered something about seeing me at another time, and released his hold. I did the same, remarking that I was at his service whenever he pleased. We both rose. Edgerly entered the sitting room, lifting his hat ironically as he vanished. I entered my own chamber, reaching the hall in that way. Finding the woman, I sent her to Miss May, telling her to knock at my door when she had executed the lady's requests. Then I threw myself into a chair, and realized for the first time how inadequate my weakened physical strength was to cope with a well man like Edgerly.
Had not that voice separated us, I would now have been lying, either dead or mangled, on the stone pavement, twelve feet below!
When I thought the matter over, I could see I had been in the wrong. The fellow had done nothing that deserved my abuse, in the first place, and the epithet he had hurled at me was in a measure justified by my conduct. It was now too late, however, to consider the origin of the quarrel. Blows had been exchanged, threats had been passed, we had agreed to settle the matter later. It was not in my disposition to crave the pardon of a man under those circumstances. If he carried out his evident purpose of trying to trash me, I would have to meet him. The fact that I was still in effect an invalid—that I was not in condition for such a game—was no excuse, nor did I intend to avail myself of it. I felt pretty certain that, within a given number of hours, I would be very lucky if I knew myself in the glass.
The chambermaid came to say that "Miss Carney" would like to see me after a short time had passed. I therefore made myself as presentable as possible, bathing my heated face, brushing my hair and arranging a necktie that had got sadly out of place. When twenty minutes had elapsed, I went to Marjorie's door and knocked softly. She came and opened it just enough to see who was there, but instead of asking me to enter said she had found, on reflection, that she did not need anything and believed the best course for her was to retire. She evidently either knew or suspected what had occurred and wanted to see if I bore evidence of having been injured.
"Very well; good-night," I said, in answer to her suggestion.