Gifford began to speak in the slow, measured tone which showed how he was guarding his words. "You may not care for his interest," he said, "but you can scarcely expect that he would not notice your absence."
"I cannot see that my movements are of so much importance to Dr. Howe," Dick answered, "and he certainly has never taken it upon himself to meddle in my affairs to the extent of asking me about them."
"Nevertheless," said Gifford, with ominous gentleness, "he must feel—surprise at your departure. That your business should take you away at this time, Mr. Forsythe, is unfortunate."
"I know my business, at least," cried the other loudly, his voice trembling with anger, "and I'm capable of attending to it without suggestions from you! I'll trouble you to speak plainly, instead of hinting. What right have you to question my leaving Ashurst?"
"No right," Gifford said calmly.
"Why don't you speak out like a man?" Forsythe demanded with a burst of rage, striking the table with his fist. "What do you mean by your damned impudence? So you dare to question my conduct to Lois Howe, do you?—you confounded prig!"
"Be silent!" Gifford said between his teeth. "Gentlemen do not introduce the name of a woman into their discussions. You forgot yourself. It is unnecessary to pursue this subject. I have nothing more to say."
"But I have more to say. Who gave you the right to speak to me? The lady herself? She must be indeed distressed to choose you for a messenger."
Gifford did not answer; for a moment the dark room was very still, except for the beating rain and the tapping of the ivy at the south window.
"Or perhaps," he went on, a sneer curling his handsome mouth, "you will comfort her yourself, instead? Well, you're welcome."