‘Bullies are usually cowards,’ observed Roger, reflectively.
‘And so is he. Wait till the time comes when the shoe begins to pinch,—when his sins come back to him, and demand house-room with him, and bring their children by the hand, and when he has made such a hole in his estate that even his guardian angel can’t stave off the remarks of creditors; then you’ll see where his brag ends.’
‘Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to look on at such a moment,’ said Roger, speaking out of the pride and the blindness of his heart. ‘To-morrow he will have to whistle to the tune of my saying good-bye to him, and leaving him to his own resources. I’m not a “gentleman born,” like he is——’
‘Now come, Roger. You’ll be saying next that all “gentlemen born” are like Otho Askam, and all “working men,” as you are pleased to call yourself, are just like you—on the same level, and with the same feelings. Keep within bounds.’
‘Not a gentleman by birth, like he is,’ Roger went on softly; ‘but I am a human being, with susceptibilities, and with coarse desires and impulses. The former have been wounded by his behaviour to my betrothed, which I consider to have been wanting in respect. The latter inspire me to tell him he is a cad, threaten him with a horsewhipping, and cry quits with him. Don’t say anything against it, because I am going to do it, and it’s no use your worrying about it.’
‘I—worry. Nay, you may choke him by knocking his own impudence down his throat, if you like; I have nothing against it. I am sorry for his sister, I must say. Did you see her to-night?’
‘Yes,’ said Roger, tranquilly. ‘So did you. She looked superb.’
‘And miserable, poor thing! Who would guess them to be brother and sister?’
‘Who, indeed?’
‘I cannot imagine that she can be very happy in that house.’