"And suppose I had not played with you and lost? What would you have done?"
"But my friends in England are so dilatory," was the evasive answer. "Still—if Mademoiselle Esther——"
"Sacré!" cried Raymond, starting to his feet, and stamping on the path. Gray seemed to rise too. "You press me too far. What do I know of you, monsieur? You live here some few months—you play high—you—you——"
"Ah, well, monsieur," said Gray, icily, as he paused.
"My daughter, too," cried Raymond; "you use my debt to you as a means——." He stopped again in his sudden passion.
"Pardon me, monsieur," said Gray, sternly, "this is only a debt of honor;" and he laid a stress on the word which drove it home. "In England we cannot enforce a debt of honor."
"What do you do there when it is not paid?"
"First post the guilty man, and then shoot him," was the answer.
I felt inclined to start from my concealment and say that this was false. I recollected, however, just in time, that it was true.
"But this is folly," pursued Gray, "and we should not quarrel. I am not going to shoot Esther's father, for example."