My remark threw Sir George into a paroxysm of rage.
"I did it, you cur, you dog, you—you traitorous, ungrateful—I did it."
"Then, Sir George," said I, interrupting him, for I was no longer able to restrain my anger, "you were a cowardly poltroon."
"This to me in my house!" he cried, grasping a chair with which to strike me. Dorothy came between us.
"Yes," said I, "and as much more as you wish to hear." I stood my ground, and Sir George put down the chair.
"Leave my house at once," he said in a whisper of rage.
"If you are on my premises in one hour from now I will have you flogged from my door by the butcher."
"What have I done?" cried Dorothy. "What have I done?"
"Your regrets come late, Mistress Vernon," said I.
"She shall have more to regret," said Sir George, sullenly. "Go to your room, you brazen, disobedient huzzy, and if you leave it without my permission, by God, I will have you whipped till you bleed. I will teach you to say 'I won't' when I say 'you shall.' God curse my soul, if I don't make you repent this day!"