Then he rose to his feet and faced Ralph, eyeing him keenly, hanging on his answer.
"Tell me, Sir Ralph," he asked abruptly, "has Mistress Barbara given you the right to protect her?"
See now how strange a thing is a man's love for woman, since it may inspire him alike to deeds of highest purity or words of deepest shame.
After one moment's pause, Ralph set honour behind him, and answered quietly:
"I have that right."
But even as Ralph spoke the words, a wild passion leapt into Captain Protheroe's eyes, a passion of hatred, of jealousy, of unbelief.
"Now, by Heavens! Sir Ralph," he shouted fiercely; "I believe you lie."
"Have a care, sir," cried Ralph sharply; "for one who will not fight, you are strangely free with your words. 'Tis easy to speak that for which you may not be called in question."
"Man, you will drive me mad. 'Tis impossible that I should fight you."
"Even with this to warm your blood?" Sir Ralph flung the contents of his glass into his companion's face.