He caught the sound of the gasp and interpreted it as a plea for quarter. It settled him in his determination.
"I must," he declared.
"By all means—if that's the way you feel about it," I said courteously, as if granting a request.
He looked down at me, in a manner that said: "It hurts me more than it does you, my child."
"I've endured—things from you before this, Grace," he reminded me, "But to-night—why, this out-Herods-Herod!"
Now, if he had looked hurt—cruelly wounded or deeply shocked—I'd have been penitent enough to behave decently to him. But he didn't. He was simply angry. He looked like the giant when he was searching around for Jack and saying: "Fee! Faw! Fum! I smell the blood of an Englishman!"
"But what have I done?" I demanded indignantly. "Mayn't a man come to see me, and—"
"Certainly he may!"
"And mayn't I—"
"And you may go to see him, too—if you like!"