The doctor sat down on a stump to unbuckle his skates. Nevitt had taken his off a few moments before, but Primrose had begged that they might skate all the way down.
"Can I do nothing to assist?" asked the other.
"Go on with your prize-winning," said the captain haughtily. "You may run over someone else if you have good luck."
"You British think you own the town and can order us about like slaves!" was the fiery reply.
"Tut! tut! Wharton! Don't get into a fight. You are hotheaded."
"I will not be insulted by any interloper, even if he wears a red coat." Wharton's face was flushed with anger, and his eyes sparkled with passion.
"Where will a note reach you?" Captain Nevitt was in a flame of anger as well.
"Come along at once! Allin Wharton, go over yonder and cool your temper talking to the pretty women. And if you are the child's brother, get along as fast as you can with her, and let us see what it amounts to. A fall like that is enough to knock the breath out of anyone."
Wharton did not attempt to follow them. They hurried on, Nevitt's anger giving him strength. He pressed his face against the cold, white one.
"Who was that boor?" he cried passionately. "If my sister is injured I shall half murder him!"