“I tell you nothing should make me stir from here now, till Mr Raydon knows the truth.”
“Yah! What’s the good o’ keeping on with all that make-believe? He knows the truth now.”
I leaped up as if stung.
“That’s right. Come on.”
My voice was very husky as I said—
“I’ve told you what I meant to do, and you keep on insulting me.”
“Don’t talk stuff. What’s the good of making all that fuss? You couldn’t help telling Mr Gunson, I know that, and I’ve told you I know it. Of course Mr Raydon don’t like it, but he can’t help himself. Now then. You’re in disgrace here, but you won’t be up at the camp; and when his bit of temper’s past, Mr Raydon will be sorry for what he said, and ask us to come and look at the piece of land after all.”
While he kept on speaking, my temper, which had always remained irritable through my illness, kept on rising, and I stood there trying to fight it down, but in vain, for it was very rapidly getting the mastery. It was as if something hot was rising within me, ready to boil over if it grew a little hotter, and it soon did.
“There, it’s all right,” cried Esau, catching me by the arm. “Never mind our things; we’ll fetch them another time. Let’s be off at once.”
“Let go of my arm,” I said, hoarsely.