Frere heard him also, and a flash of anger passed across his features.
“My dear Rasper, you’re excited,” returned Bracy soothingly. “I did not witness the affair certainly, but I cannot think that any insult was intended. Frere is rough in his manner, but the best-hearted fellow in the world.”
“I don’t know what you may consider an insult, Mr. Bracy; but taking a man by the collar and swinging him over the banisters like a cat, at the risk of his neck, is quite insult enough for me, one for which I’ll have satisfaction, too.”
“Hush, my dear fellow, you’ll attract general attention if you speak so loud. Here, come aside with me, and we’ll talk the matter over quietly.”
So saying, he drew Rasper’s arm within his own, and led him through a side door which opened upon the staircase. Involuntarily glancing at his companion, Frere perceived her eyes riveted on his features with an expression of alarmed inquiry.
“Well, what’s the matter?” he demanded, answering her speaking look.
“What is that man so angry about?” returned Rose breathlessly; “what have you been doing?”
“Nothing very wonderful,” rejoined Frere coolly. “The young gentleman, as I suppose one is bound to call him, drank rather more wine than was prudent, and fancying I looked a quiet, easy-tempered kind of person, by way of a dull jest, indulged himself with falling against and rudely pushing by me on the staircase; and I, not being at the moment in the humour for joking, did, as he very truly observes, swing him like a cat over the banisters, where, cat-like, he fell upon his legs.”
“Oh, Mr. Frere, how could you do such a thing? And now he is dreadfully angry, and talked about sending you a message, which means that he wants to fight a duel. Mr. Frere, you will not fight with him?” and as Rose spoke her pale cheek flushed with unwonted animation, and tears, scarcely repressed, glistened in her earnest eyes.
“What do you think about it?” returned Frere, looking at her with a kind smile.