“No, I shall not interfere.”
“Then I will,” cried Crellock, passionately. “I’ve been played with too long.”
“Played with!” cried Hallam. “Look here, Steve, if I put up with the bullying of that officer fellow, don’t you think I’m going to let you say and do what—”
He stopped short and literally flinched, as if he expected a blow, for Crellock turned upon him sharply, but merely looked him full in the face.
“Well, I—that is—I—”
He faltered and stopped. The old days of his domination had gone by; Crellock had ceased to be slave to the self-indulgent man, who had become servant, first to the strong drinks in which he indulged, and then, as his nerve failed, the obedient tool of him who had once trembled before him, worshipped him almost as the very perfection of what a man should be, and now made him tremble before him in his turn.
“Do you want to quarrel and get rid of me?” said Crellock, sharply.
“Don’t talk like that, my lad,” said Hallam, piteously. “You know how my health’s going, and how nervous I am. It makes me irritable when you are so unreasonable.”
“Yes, very unreasonable to bear what I do,” snarled Crellock. “But reasonable or no, I’m not going to back out of it, and I am not going to let you.”
Hallam’s flushed face turned of a sodden white.