Sir Francis Varney gave a strange smile as he spoke, and shook his head, as if some most extraordinary and extravagant proposition had been mooted, which it was scarcely worth the while of anybody possessed of common sense to set about expecting.
Admiral Bell felt strongly inclined to get into a rage, but he repressed the idea as much as he could, although, but for the curious faint green light that came through the blinds, his heightened colour would have sufficiently proclaimed what state of mind he was in.
"Mr. Varney," he said, "all this is quite beside the question; but, at all events, if it have any weight at all, it ought to have a considerable influence in deciding you to accept of what terms I propose."
"What are they, sir?"
"Why, that you permit me to espouse my nephew Charles's quarrel, and meet you instead of him."
"You meet me?"
"Yes; I've met a better man more than once before. It can make no difference to you."
"I don't know that, Admiral Bell. One generally likes, in a duel, to face him with whom one has had the misunderstanding, be it on what grounds it may."
"There's some reason, I know, in what you say; but, surely, if I am willing, you need not object."
"And is your nephew willing thus to shift the danger and the job of resenting his own quarrels on to your shoulders?"