“Her dainty ladyship has not bid high enough, I suppose,” he continued. “Don’t be afraid to open your mouth. There’s another woman there besides the Lady Ruth Barrington, who opens bazaars, and patronizes charity, and entertains Royalty. Ask what you want and she’ll pay!”
“What a brute you are!” Aynesworth exclaimed involuntarily.
“Of course I am,” he admitted. “I know that. But whose fault is it? It isn’t mine. I’ve lived the life of a brute creature for ten years. You don’t abuse a one-legged man, poor devil. I’ve had other things amputated. I was like you once. It seemed all right to me to go under to save a woman’s honor. You never have. Therefore, I say you’ve no right to call me a brute. Personally, I don’t object. It is simply a matter of equity.”
“I admit it,” Aynesworth declared. “You are acting like a brute.”
“Precisely. I didn’t make myself what I am. Prison did it. Go and try ten years yourself, and you’ll find you will have to grope about for your fine emotions. Are you coming to America with me?”
“I suppose so,” Aynesworth answered. “When do we start?”
“Saturday week.”
“Sport west, or civilization east?”
“Both,” Wingrave answered. “Here is a list of the kit which we shall require. Add yourself the things which I have forgotten. I pay for both!”
“Very good of you,” Aynesworth answered.