"Come, Mr. Barnstable," he said soothingly, "you can't go about making scenes in this way. Sit down, and if you've anything to say, say it quietly."
Mr. Barnstable, however, was not to be beguiled with words. He had evidently been brooding over wrongs, real or fancied, until his temper had got beyond control.
"Anything to say?" he repeated angrily,—"I've this to say: that he has insulted my wife. I'll sue you for libel, damme! I've a great mind to thrash you!"
Jack grinned down on the truculent Barnstable from his superior height. Barnstable stood with his short legs well apart, as if he had to brace them to bear up the enormous weight of his anger; Jack, careless, laughing, and elegant, leaned his elbow on the mantle and smoked.
"There, Mr. Barnstable," Fairfield said, coming to him and taking him by the arm; "you evidently don't know what you're saying. Of course there's some mistake. Mr. Neligage never insulted a lady."
"But he has done it," persisted Barnstable. "He has done it, Mr. Fairfield. Have you read 'Love in a Cloud'?"
"'Love in a Cloud'?" repeated Dick in manifest astonishment.
"You must know the book, Dick," put in Jack wickedly. "It's that rubbishy anonymous novel that's made so much talk lately. It's about a woman whose husband's temper was incompatible."
"It's about my wife!" cried Barnstable. "What right had you to put my wife in a book?"
"Pardon me," Neligage asked with the utmost suavity, "but is it proper to ask if it was your temper that was incompatible?"