“Then, Captain Everard, you lie.”
“You dare to tell me so?”
And he strode a pace nearer.
“It needs no daring. I know you too well; and so does another who trusted you and found you false as hell.”
“You presume on your cloth, but—” he said, lifting his hand.
“You may strike me, presuming on my cloth,” I answered; “and I will not return your blow. Insult me as you will, and I will bear it. Call me coward, and I will say nothing. But lay one hand on me to prevent me from doing my duty, and I knock you down—or find you more of a man than I take you for.”
It was either conscience or something not so good that made a coward of him. He turned on his heel.
“I really am not sufficiently interested in the affair to oppose you. You may take the girl for me. Both your cloth and the presence of ladies protect your insolence. I do not like brawling where one cannot fight. You shall hear from me before long, Mr Walton.”
“No, Captain Everard, I shall not hear from you. You know you dare not write to me. I know that of you which, even on the code of the duellist, would justify any gentleman in refusing to meet you. Stand out of my way!”
I advanced with Miss Oldcastle on my arm. He drew back; and we left the room.