"Your conjecture, sir," he said, "may be right or it may be wrong. I imagine that to be my business."
"Come," said I, "don't be angry, but drink a glass with me. We meet only to part, and good liquor will dwell better in the memory than curt words."
"Sir," he answered, eyeing me savagely, "I desire neither your liquor nor your acquaintance, and you may drink your wine yourself."
Now, although he was perfectly within his right in refusing my tendered courtesy, I did not at all like the manner of his refusal, and my blood began to warm, the more particularly as the girl had fallen again to quiet weeping.
"I thank you," I said, "for so gracious a permission, and may you learn better manners before you grow too old."
"The devil!" he said. "What ails the pair of you? The boy is impudent and deserves a whipping, and you," turning to the lady, "not much less. For God's sake stop snivelling and be done with this nonsense."
"As for the whipping," said I, dropping a hand on my sword, "I take and give only whippings with steel."
"Bravo!" he sneered, "and a pretty hand you make at the game, I'll be bound."
"I'm at your service, sir," I said, draining my glass.
The fellow was terribly put out, but I could see that he had good reason to avoid a quarrel; he looked from me to the window and from the window to the lady, and bit his lip with rage. After a pause, he said, more quietly—