“I won’t be governed by any man’s reasons that he won’t tell me,” cried Archer. “He cannot have good reasons, or why not tell them?”
“Nonsense!” said De Grey. “We shall not suspect him of caprice!”
“Why not?”
“Because we who know him, have never known him capricious.”
“Perhaps not. I know nothing about him,” said Archer.
“No,” said De Grey; “for that very reason I speak who do know him. Don’t be in a passion, Archer.”
“I will be in a passion. I won’t submit to tyranny. I won’t be made a fool of by a few soft words. You don’t know me, De Grey. I’ll go through with what I’ve begun. I am manager, and I will be manager; and you shall see my theatre finished in spite of you, and my party triumphant.”
“Party,” repeated De Grey. “I cannot imagine what is in the word ‘party’ that seems to drive you mad. We never heard of parties till you came amongst us.”
“No; before I came, I say, nobody dared oppose you; but I dare; and I tell you to your face, take care of me—a warm friend and a bitter enemy is my motto.”
“I am not your enemy! I believe you are out of your senses, Archer!” said he, laughing.