“Not at home save to those whom you may be pleased to admit to your palatial residence,” he sneered.
“My residence is a very humble one, Mr. Melton, and when you honored it with your person I hope you found it a hospitable one. Miss Hawthorne is mistress of her own movements, but let me tell you, sir, that she is my mother’s guest, and the guest of an Ormonde is sacred.”
“Very dramatic, but scarcely to the point.”
“I’ll come to any point you please.”
“When this election business is over I may have something to say to you,” his tone fairly exasperating.
I could stand it no longer.
“You white-livered cub, whatever you have to say, say it now!” I shouted, the blood rushing like molten lava through my veins.
“I don’t row in public.”
“Do you wish me to tell you what I think of you, in public, Mr. Melton?”
He smiled.