'I am very sorry for you; but you are becoming impertinent.'
'But what am I to do if you won't marry me? All my friends know what I've come here for. It's absurd.'
'You had better desist.'
It is charitable to suppose that Dempster was utterly unaware of what he was doing. Anger nearly suffocated him. He twisted and squirmed at every word, writhing with the anticipation of mockery.
'It's shameful,' he cried. 'Here have I been loving you like—like lava; and to be thrown overboard, ignominiously—yes, ignominiously'—he fancied he heard the word resounding in smoking-rooms—'for a poor nobody.'
Muriel started and glared at him. But he was 'fey,' and went on.
'You may well look! A foundling—a charity-boy! You love this sup—superfluous and probably illegitimate pauper, who——'
'O, you unmanly fool!'
'I say!' and he fell against the tree smitten by Muriel's thunder and lightning. The storm pealed on.
'I have read of men who spoke such cowardice, but I never thought to know one. How dare you talk of love? O the shame! Every wealthy fool can look at us, and love us, as they say, and whine to us—it is a shame! What right have you to love me or think of me? If you ever wish to be worth a thought, or fit for his service whom you've slandered, go and found hospitals, endow scholarships—fling your wealth in the sea—only get rid of it! And plough the fields, break stones, dig ditches—some honest work your scanty brains are suited for; and when that has made you something of a man, go and beg his pardon. Go away from here, now, at once. He's waiting for me.'