She drew away. He pulled at her hand. "Damn the O——Place. Wash the matter? You got to come."
Then he seized her by the arm, and, still lurching from side to side, began to move away.
"No, no," she whispered, obviously terrified of a scene, but using all her strength to resist. Her eyes again met Breton's.
"That lady," he said, advancing to the stout gentleman, "is a friend of mine."
The man looked at him with an expression astonished, simply and rather puzzled.
"Wash—wash...?" he said.
"You'll be so good as to leave that lady alone."
"Well, I'm b——well damned. Oh! gosh." The stout gentleman contemplated him with furious amazement.
"'Oo the b——'ell I'd like to know? Get out or I'll kick yer out."
The quarrel had by now gathered its crowd.