“Look here,” cried Morrison angrily, “I’ve had about enough of your family, so please finish your cigar and go.”
“Shan’t. There, it’s no use to twist about. I’ve come on purpose to sit upon you.”
“Look here,” cried Morrison sternly, “has your sister sent you?”
“No. I’ve come of my own free will, as I tell you, to show you what a fool you are, and to try and bring you to your senses.”
“You are very ready at calling people fools,” said Morrison, biting his nails.
“Well, don’t you deserve to be called one for acting as you have acted? What did you do? Went mad after a woman who didn’t care a sou for you; neglected a dear, good girl who did care for you, and exposed her to the persecutions of a scoundrel who has no more principle than that.”
He snapped his fingers, and, instead of firing up with rage, Morrison turned his face away and smoked furiously.
“Now, isn’t that all true, Frank? Here, give me a light.”
Morrison lit a spill, passed it to his brother-in-law, and sank back in his chair.
“I say,” continued Dick, as he lit his cigar again, “isn’t it (puff) quite (puff) true?”