Winthrope hesitated; but an impatient movement by Blake forced an answer: “Well, you remember, this morning, telling us to dry our clothes.”
“Yes; I remember,” said Blake. “So you want to serve as lady’s valet?”
Winthrope’s plump face turned a sickly yellow.
“I–ah–valet?–What do you mean, sir? I protest–I do not understand you!” he stammered. But in the midst, catching sight of Blake’s bewildered stare, he suddenly flushed crimson, and burst out in unrestrained anger: “You–you bounder–you beastly cad! Any man with an ounce of decency–”
Blake uttered a jeering laugh– “Wow! Hark, how the British lion r-r-ro-ars when his tail’s twisted!”
“You beastly cad!” repeated the Englishman, now purple with rage.
Blake’s unpleasant pleasantry gave place to a scowl. His jaw thrust out like a bulldog’s, and he bent towards Winthrope with a menacing look. For a moment the Englishman faced him, sustained by his anger. But there was a steely light in Blake’s eyes that he could not withstand. Winthrope’s defiant stare wavered and fell. He shrank back, the color fast ebbing from his cheeks.
“Ugh!” growled Blake. “Guess you won’t blat any more about cads! You damned hypocrite! Maybe I’m not on to how you’ve been hanging around Miss Leslie just because she’s an heiress. Anything is fair enough for you swells. But let a fellow so much as open his mouth about your exalted set, and it’s perfectly dreadful, you know!”
He paused for a reply. Winthrope only drew back a step farther, and eyed him with a furtive, sidelong glance. This brought Blake back to his mocking jeer. “You’ll learn, Pat, me b’y. There’s lots of things’ll show up different to you before we get through this picnic. For one thing, I’m boss here–president, congress, and supreme court. Understand?”
“By what right, may I ask?” murmured Winthrope.