The young fellow had a persuasive tongue, and boasted he could get the better of even a Jew. Clare heard the money-lender grant him a renewal for three months, when, if Marway did not pay, or were not the accepted suitor of the lady whose fortune was to redeem him, his creditor would take his course.
The moment he perceived they were about to part, Clare hastened from the caravan, and went along the edge of the waste ground, so as to meet Marway on his road back to the town: at the corner of it they came jump together. Marway started when Clare addressed him. Seeing, then, who claimed his attention, he drew himself up.
“Well?” he said.
“Mr. Marway,” began Clare, “I heard a great deal of what passed between you and old Lewin.”
Marway used worse than vulgar language at times, and he did so now, ending with the words,
“A spy! a sneaking spy! Would you like to lick my boot? By Jove, you shall know the taste of it!”
“Nobody minds being overheard who hasn’t something to conceal! If I had low secrets I would not stand up against the side of a caravan when I wanted to talk about them. I was inside. Not to hear you I should have had to stop my ears.”
“Why didn’t you, then, you low-bred flunkey?”
“Because I had heard of you what made it my duty to listen.”
Marway cursed his insolence, and asked what he was doing in such a place. He would report him, he said.