“You have shaved your beard, Mr. Crawley,” said Isaac, in a low tone.
“My beard! I never had one,” replied Crawley, in the same key.
“Yes, you had when last I saw you—in the gold mine; you set ruffians to abuse me, sir.”
“Don't you believe that, Mr. Levi.”
“I saw it and felt it.”
The peculiarity of this situation was, that, the room being full of people, both parties wished, each for his own reason, not to excite general attention, and therefore delivered scarce above a whisper the sort of matter that is generally uttered very loud and excitedly.
“It is my turn now,” whispered Levi; “an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.”
“You must look sharp then,” whispered Crawley; “to-morrow perhaps you may not have the chance.”
“I never postpone vengeance—when it is ripe.”
“Don't you, sir? dear me.”