Jeffray, cooling in contrast to his cousin’s indignation, bowed to him, and condescended to smile.
“Thanks for your bad opinion, cousin,” he said.
“Cousin, damn you, don’t call me cousin! Tell me who the wench is who is making play for you over here.”
Jeffray drew himself instantly.
“Let me advise you, sir,” he said, “to refrain from repeating an insult to a woman’s honor.”
Mr. Lot gave a deep, ventral laugh, flashed a contemptuous look at his cousin, and cocked his thumb towards Bess.
“You needn’t talk so fine about such baggage,” he said.
“Lot Hardacre!”
“You can see the color of her stockings, eh? I tell you, Richard Jeffray, you have insulted my sister’s affections, jilted her, sir, for a mere drab. Take it straight in the face.”
Mr. Lot’s fist lunged out suddenly, but Jeffray, who had been watching for the blow, sprang back out of the reach of his cousin’s arm.