"That's the talk, Brandon!" said Travers approvingly. "I like to hear a man show proper independence. Of course you're master here."
Mrs. Brandon was of a gentle nature, but she was roused to resentment by this rudeness. Turning to Travers, she said:
"I don't know who you are, sir, but your remarks are offensive and displeasing."
"I'm the friend of my friend Brandon," said Travers insolently, "and as long as he don't complain of my remarks, I shall remark what I please. What d'ye say, Brandon?"
"Quite right, Travers, old boy! You're in my house, and I expect you to be treated accordingly. Mrs. B., you will be kind enough to remember that this gen'leman is a frien' of mine," and Brandon closed the sentence with a drunken hiccough.
"I think it necessary to say that this house belongs to me," said Mrs. Brandon, "and that no one is welcome here who does not treat me with respect."
"Spunky, eh?" said Travers, laughing rudely.
"Yes, she's spunky," said Brandon, "but we'll cure her of that, eh, Travers?—the same way as I cured that boy of hers."
"That was good!" laughed Travers. "He's an impudent young rascal."