"You may say what you like," she told him, "but perhaps you'll regret it afterwards."
"I'll risk that. Well, to use a word you English always fight shy of, the fellow's not a gentleman."
Sonia clenched her hands and bit her lip to keep control of herself.
"You dare to say that of a friend of mine?"
"That's the pity of it, Sonia," O'Rane returned easily. "You're too good to be contaminated with that kind of stuff. He hasn't the instincts of a gentleman."
From an early age most people had hastened to conciliate and agree with Sonia when she was angry. I know nothing more characteristic of O'Rane than his repetition of the insult. She collected herself and struck coolly at his most vulnerable part.
"Perhaps, from what I know of you, you're not in a position to be a very good judge," she suggested.
Eight years before when O'Rane was cast up on the shore at Melton, it is no exaggeration to say that such a remark would have brought the speaker within easy distance of being killed. Now he only went pale and sat very still until he could speak dispassionately.
"I shall be on the high seas in a week's time," he told her, "and we shan't meet again for some years. I've given you my parting advice——"