“It was difficult to see all the faces in the smoky half-light of the lamps, but those about me showed a pallor of apprehension.
“Was Miss Smith’s uncle there—or her guardian—or her cousin? Was anybody present who had a claim to represent her? No?
“The broadening trickle of blood on Delafield’s face dripped down the white shirt front, but no one stirred or spoke.
“‘Then I wa—want to say’—here he lurched forward from the door and stood rocking slightly at the end of the table. ‘I want to say that I—I’m drunk an’—and I know it. But I’m—I’m a gentleman. An’—and yonder’s nothing but a cur—a low-lived cur—drunk or sober. You—you’ve heard him—now see him!’
“Something flashed before his eyes, and then a wine-glass struck Hawkins square on the forehead, scattering in fragments over the table.
“And Hawkins stood there, his face dripping with the wine, and his clothes showing great stains of it—stood there without moving as Delafield leaned over the table and laughed—
“‘If—if you only had as much re—red blood in you—you—you——’
“And then he fell fainting across the table, crashing among the bottles.
“The Governing Board expelled Delafield, but the club sentiment was so strongly in his favour that they afterward rescinded the expulsion, and suspended him for three years. But that never satisfied his friends.”
“I should think not, indeed,” exclaimed Joline, “it was outrageous! I’ve always claimed you can’t be sure a man’s a thorough gentleman until you’ve seen him drunk. And that proves it.”