"Yes, I was ill when I started after you—or you wouldn't be alive and grinning at me now. I was a fool—I should have waited. But look out for me another day, you skunk!"
The ghastly rigor choked his last words. The look of terror and anxiety deepened on his face. Then at last he managed to stumble up.
"I—I'm going home," he stuttered, and felt sick as he realised he would have to pass again through Goatsluck Wood.
"And you won't let me go with you?"
"No—I shan't let myself owe you anything, for I mean to kill you some day."
"I advise you not to threaten me—I might be obliged to take proceedings against you."
"A pretty mess you'd be in if you did. I suppose you don't want your new girl to hear about Janey?"
Quentin flushed.
"If I wasn't obliged to shield my sister," continued Len, "I'd tell that girl myself. But you know my tongue's tied—besides, I'd rather kill you."