“Ah! you damned hound!” roared the young squire’s voice; and his hand went up with the whip in it.
Ralph did not move a muscle. He seemed cut in steel.
“Let us go,” said Dom Anthony again, to Chris, almost tenderly; “it is enough that we are turned out by force.”
“You can go by the church, if you will,” said Ralph composedly. “In fact—” He stopped as the murmur howled up again from the gate—“In fact you had better go that way. They do not seem to be your friends out there.”
“We will go whichever way you wish,” remarked the elder monk.
“Then the church,” said Ralph, “or some other private door. I suppose you have one. Most of your houses have one, I believe.”
The sneer snapped the tension.
Dom Anthony turned his back on him instantly.
“Come, brother,” he said.
Chris took his father by the arm as he went up the steps.