"Let this be a lesson to you, sir," he said, and walked away before Philip could pick up his sword.
Twenty minutes later Philip walked into the hall of Sharley House, a handkerchief tied tightly round his arm, and asked for Mistress Cleone. On being told that she was in the parlour, he stalked in upon her.
Cleone's eyes flew to his crooked arm.
"Oh!" she cried, and half rose. "What—what have you done? You are hurt!"
"It is less than nothing, I thank you," replied Philip. "I want you to answer me plainly, Cleone. What is that fellow to you?"
Cleone sat down again. Her eyes flashed; Philip was nearer than ever to his downfall.
"I entirely fail to understand you, sir," she answered.
"Do you love that—that prancing ninny?" asked Philip.
"I consider such a question an—an impertinence!" cried Cleone. "What right have you to ask me such a thing?"
Philip's brows met across the bridge of his nose.