"You damned rascal!" he cried. "If you set foot on my premises again, it will be at the risk of your contemptible life."
"Come, come, Mr. Faber! this won't do," returned the youth, defiantly, as he gathered himself up. "I don't want to make a row, but—
"You don't want to make a row, you puppy! Then I do. You don't come into my house again. I'll have your traps turned out to you.—Jenkins!—You had better leave the town as fast as you can, too, for this won't be a secret."
"You'll allow me to call on Mr. Crispin first?"
"Do. Tell him the truth, and see whether he'll take the thing up! If I were God, I'd damn you!"
"Big words from you, Faber!" said the youth with a sneer, struggling hard to keep the advantage he had in temper. "Every body knows you don't believe there is any God."
"Then there ought to be, so long as such as you 'ain't got your deserts. You set up for a doctor! I would sooner lose all the practice I ever made than send you to visit woman or child, you heartless miscreant!"
The epithet the doctor really used here was stronger and more contemptuous, but it is better to take the liberty of substituting this.
"What have I done then to let loose all this Billingsgate?" cried the young man indignantly. "I have done nothing the most distinguished in the profession haven't done twenty times over."
"I don't care a damn. What's the profession to humanity! For a wonder the public is in the right on this question, and I side with the public. The profession may go to—Turkey!"—Probably Turkey was not the place he had intended to specify, but at the moment he caught sight of Juliet and her companion.—"There!" he concluded, pointing to the door behind him, "you go in and put your things up—and be off."