So then I began to see there was something biting the man, though for my life I couldn't guess what.
However, he soon told me.
He sat down, took off his hat, wiped his brow, blew his nose and then spoke.
"I've just been having a tell with Minnie Parable—old Parable's daughter," he said.
"Have you?" I said. "Would you call him old?"
"Be damned to his age," he answered. "That's neither here nor there. But this I'd wish you to understand. I've respected you for a good few years now."
"Why not?" I asked, rather short, for I didn't like his manner.
"No reason at all till half an hour agone," he replied. "But now I hear that, while you well knew my feelings and my hopes and might have trusted a man like me to speak when he saw his way, instead of following my lead and remembering yourself and calling to mind the sort of woman such as I had the right to expect, and waiting with patience and dignity for the accepted hour, you be throwing all thought of me to the winds and rolling your eyes on the men and axing them to tea, and conducting yourself in a manner very unbecoming indeed for the woman I'd long hoped to marry."
I felt myself go red to the bosom; but I done a very clever thing, for though a thousand words leapt to my tongue, I didn't speak one of 'em; but kept my mouth close shut and looked at him. Nought will vex an angry man more than to be faced with blank silence after he's let off steam and worked up to a fine pitch; and now Greg expected me to answer back; and it put him out of his stride a lot when I didn't.
I dare say we was both dumb for three minutes; then he got up off his chair and prepared to go.