“I don’t accept your unsupported evidence,” repeated Alexander, pleased with his own phrase.
“Do you know what you’re saying? It’s simply stating that I’m not to be believed. You can’t put any other meaning upon your words.”
“I don’t wish to,” answered Alexander, driven to stand by what he had said, but conscious that he had gone too far.
A pause followed. John was very pale. Alexander Lauderdale’s face was dark with the blood that rose slowly under the grey olive skin. The hand that held his hat swung quickly by his side once or twice. Ralston’s fingers twitched nervously. By the door, Katharine held her breath.
“Look here, Mr. Lauderdale,” said John, in a low voice. “I’m not going to strike you here, but when I meet you in the street I will.”
“Jack! Jack!” cried Katharine, rushing forward and catching his arm, and throwing the other of her own round his neck.
She knew how much stronger her father was than he. At the sight of her, the deep red colour appeared at last in Alexander’s face, and his anger got the better of him altogether.
“Take your arms from that man’s neck!” he cried, furiously. “Don’t touch him, I say!”
But Katharine did not release her hold. A woman’s idea of protecting a man is to wind herself round him, so as to make him perfectly helpless to defend himself.
“Let me go, dear,” said Ralston, in a voice suddenly tender, but trembling a little.