"Mr. Trotter," he said, with grave dignity, "it will afford me the greatest pleasure and honour to represent you in this crisis. Pray command me. No doubt the scoundrel will refuse to meet you, but at any rate a challenge may be—"
Miss Emsdale broke in quickly. "Don't,—for heaven's sake, dear M. Mirabeau,—don't put such notions into his head! It is bad enough as it is. I beg of you—"
"Besides," said Mr. Bramble, "one doesn't fight duels in this country, any more than one does in England. It's quite against the law."
"I sha'n't need any one to represent me when it comes to punching his head," said Mr. Trotter.
"It's against the law, strictly speaking, to punch a person's head," began Mr. Bramble nervously.
"But it's not against the law, confound you, Bramby, to provide a legal excuse for going to jail, is it? He says he's going to put me there. Well, I intend to make it legal and—"
"Oh, goodness!" cried Miss Emsdale, in dismay.
"—And I'm not going to jail for nothing, you can stake your life on that."
"Do you think, Mr. Trotter, that it will add to my happiness if you are lodged in jail on my account?" said she. "Haven't I done you sufficient injury—"
"Now, you are not to talk like that," he interrupted, reddening.