Algernon had no power of encountering a human eye steadily, or he would have shown the man with a look how repulsive he was to a gentleman. His sensations grew remorseful, as if he were guilty of handing a victim to the wretch.
But the woman followed her own inclination, did she not? There was no compulsion: she accepted this man. And if she could do that, pity was wasted on her!
So thought he: and so the world would think of the poor forlorn soul striving to expiate her fault, that her father and sister might be at peace, without shame.
Algernon signified to Sedgett that the agreement was fixed and irrevocable on his part.
Sedgett gulped some ale.
“Hands on it,” he said, and laid his huge hand open across the table.
This was too much.
“My word must satisfy you,” said Algernon, rising.
“So it shall. So it do,” returned Sedgett, rising with him. “Will you give it in writing?”
“I won't.”