"Steady, Mr. Stubbles, steady," the lawyer advised. "You must not talk that way. You are not out of deep water yet."
"I will stay in, then, and you can all go to blazes. You want me to back down and say I have been in the fault. But you've got the wrong bull by the horns this time."
"Am I to understand, then, that you will not need the ten thousand dollars from me?" Garton asked.
"No, not under your conditions. You want me to apologise to him," and he nodded toward Douglas. "If I do, you'll let me have the money. Is that it?"
"Mr.—er—Handyman, can speak for himself," Garton replied.
"I am not thinking so much of myself, Mr. Stubbles," Douglas told him, "as of the parish in general. If you agree not to act like a tyrant in the future and not to meddle in Church matters, and stop persecuting every clergyman who comes here unless he bows to your slightest wish, then I am satisfied."
"Do you think I am a fool?" Stubbles flung back. "What impudence! Why, I never heard the like of it before! And I won't allow it! You can go, both of you. I'll attend to my own affairs, sink or swim."
Stubbles rose to his feet, signifying that the discussion was at an end.
"So you don't want the money, then?" Garton asked.
"No, and that's the end of it."