And now the Devil of Rage which had been swelling within me gave place to a worse devil—the Devil of Jealousy—and I turned on the captain, who was also just about to slink away:—
“Stop!” I cried out—I screamed out, I may say.
“Who spoke to you, I should like to know? and who the dooce dares to speak to me in that sort of way?” says Clarence Baker, with a plentiful garnish of expletives, which need not be here inserted. But he stopped, nevertheless, and turned slouching round.
“You spoke just now of Miss Prior?” I said. “Have you anything against her?”
“What’s that to you?” he asked.
“I am her oldest friend. I introduced her into this family. Dare you say a word against her?”
“Well, who the dooce has?”
“You knew her before?”
“Yes, I did, then.”
“When she went by the name of Bellenden?”