“Pity you won’t live to see it,” I retorted tartly.
“You’re still nursing that maggot, are you? Debating with yourself about giving me up, eh? Well that’s a matter you must settle with your conscience, if you indulge in the luxury of one.”
“You would never give him up, Kenneth,” said Aileen in a low voice. “Surely you would not be doing that.”
“I shall not let him stay here. You may be sure of that,” I said doggedly.
The girl ventured a suggestion timidly. “Perhaps Sir Robert will be leaving to-morrow—for London mayhap.”
Volney shook his head decisively. “Not I. Why, I have but just arrived. Besides, here is a problem in ethics for Mr. Montagu to solve. Strength comes through conflict, so the schools teach. Far be it from me to remove the cause of doubt. Let him solve his problem for himself, egad!”
He seemed to find a feline pleasure in seeing how far he could taunt me to go. He held me on the knife-edge of irritation, and perillous as was the experiment he enjoyed seeing whether he could not drive me to give him up.
“Miss Macleod’s solution falls pat. Better leave to-morrow, Sir Robert. To stay is dangerous.”
“’Tis dangerous to take a cold, to sleep, to drink; but I tell you, my lord fool, ‘out of this nettle danger, we pluck this flower safety,’” he quoted.
“I see you always have your tag of Shakespeare ready; then let me remind you what he has to say about the better part of valour,” I flung back, for once alert in riposte.