“And you—you sit there, you devil!” he shouted.
Sir James was with him in a moment, so swiftly that Beatrice did not see him move. Margaret was clinging to her now, whispering and sobbing.
“Nick,” snapped out the old man, “hold your tongue, sir. Sit down.”
“God’s Blood!” bellowed the squire. “You bid me sit down.”
Sir James gripped him so fiercely that he stepped back.
“I bid you sit down,” he said. “Ralph, will you help us?”
Ralph stood up instantly. He had not stirred a muscle as Nick shouted at him.
“I waited for that, sir,” he said. “What is it you would have me do?”
Beatrice saw that his face was quite quiet as he spoke; his eyelids drooped a little; and his mouth was tight and firm. He seemed not to be aware of Nicholas’s presence.
“To hinder the play-acting,” said his father.