“Oh!” he said, “I want no excuse for addressing your lordship. The Temples were gentlefolk before the Chudleighs were heard of.”
“Well, Mr. Temple, so be it. Enjoy that superiority. Shall we close this discussion?”
“No, my lord; there is more to be said.”
He spoke hotly, and with an anger which ought surely to have been simulated, such small provocation as he had received.
“Then, sir, in Heaven’s name, let us say it and have done with it.”
“You have offended me, my lord—you best know how.”
“I believe I know, Mr. Temple. You also know what grounds you have for believing that to be an offence.”
“I say, my lord,” his voice rose and his eyes flashed, “that you have offended me.”
“Had I done so wittingly,” returned Lord Chudleigh, “I should willingly ask pardon. But I deny your right to take offence.”
“You have offended me highly,” he repeated, “and that in a manner which makes an apology only a deeper insult. You have offended me in a manner which only one thing can satisfy.”