"Really, your officious indignation," said Cecil, getting angry in his turn, "is somewhat out of place. You meant kindly, I dare say; but once for all allow me to observe, that I neither am, nor ever will be, a quill-driver."
"Not even for her sake?"
"No; for no one will I degrade myself in my own eyes. If I must work, it shall be in some gentlemanly department. I will either paint or write for my livelihood, when I am condemned to gain it."
"And you pretend to love her?"
"I do; but I am sure she would be the first to dissuade me from such a degradation as you propose. She has given her heart to a gentleman, and not to a clerk."
"Bah! you talk in the language of a century ago. The pride which was then, perhaps, excusable, becomes simply ridiculous now-a-days."
"And you, captain, are using language which, if it continues, I shall demand an explanation——"
"You threaten?"
"I have no wish to do so; but the tone you adopt is such as I can no longer permit."
"Well, I did not come to quarrel with you, so will abstain from criticism. Only, let me ask you what you propose to do?"