“DRAW AND DEFEND YOURSELF!”
“She is right, sir,” spoke Drayton. “This is in truth neither time nor place to settle our differences.”
“And where shall we find a better?” cried Clifford, who was beside himself with rage. “If you wish not to bear the stigma of cowardice, you must draw.”
But Drayton made no motion toward his sword.
“Nay,” he said. “’Tis not fitting before her. I confess that I was wrong to further provoke you when I saw you in passion. In truth you were so heated that to exasperate you more gave me somewhat of pleasure. I cry you pardon. There will no doubt be occasion more suitable——”
“I decline to receive your apology, sir,” retorted Clifford Owen hotly. “Perchance a more suitable occasion in your eyes would be when I am at the disadvantage of being a prisoner. Or, perchance, you find it convenient to hide behind my cousin’s petticoats. Once more, sir; for the last time: If you have honor, if you are not a poltroon as well as a braggart and a boaster, draw and defend yourself.”
“It will have to be, Peggy,” said Drayton leading her aside. “There will be bad blood until this is settled, and your cousin hath gone too far. Suffer it to go on, I entreat.”