Scott's eyes met his like a sword in a master-hand. "The matter is," he said, "that this precious game of yours has got to end. If you are not man enough to end it—I will."
"Will you indeed?" Eustace shook him to and fro as he stood, but still without violence. "And how?"
"I shall tell her," Scott spoke without the smallest hesitation, "the exact truth. I shall tell her—and she will believe me—precisely what you are."
"Damn you!" said Sir Eustace.
With the words he shifted his grasp, took Scott by the collar, and swung him round.
"Then you may also tell her," he said, his voice low and furious, "that you have had the kicking that a little yapping cur like you deserves."
He kicked him with the words, kicked him thrice, and flung him brutally aside.
Scott went down, grabbing vainly at the bed to save himself. His face was deathly as he turned it, but he said nothing. He had said his say.
Sir Eustace was white also, white and terrible, with eyes of flame. He stood a moment, glaring down at him. Then, as though he could not trust himself, wheeled and strode to the door.
"And when you've done," he said, "you can come to me for another, you beastly little cad!"