"Something of that sort," I said, good-humoredly.

"Oh, Don Quixote once more, eh?" he sneered, too mad to raise his voice
to the more convenient bellow which seemed to soothe him as much as it
distressed his listener. "Well, you've got a fool's mate in Sir George
Covert, the insufferable dandy! And all you two need is a pair o' Panzas
and a brace of windmills. Bah!" He grew angrier. "Bah, I say!" He broke
out: "Damnation, sir! Go to the devil!"

I said, calmly: "Sir Lupus, I hear your observation with patience; I
naturally receive your admonition with respect, but your bearing towards
me I resent. Pray, sir, remember that I am under your roof now, but when
I quit it I am free to call you to account."

"What! You'd fight me?"

"Scarcely, sir; but I should expect somebody to make your words good."

"Bah! Who? Ruyven? He's a lad! Dorothy is the only one to--" He broke
out into a hoarse laugh. "Oh, you Ormonds! I might have saved myself the
pains. And now you want to flesh your sword, it matters not in
whom--Tory, rebel, neutral folk, they're all one to you, so that you
fight! George, don't take offence; I naturally swear at those I differ
with. I may love 'em and yet curse 'em like a sailor! Know me better,
George! Bear with me; let me swear at you, lad! It's all I can do."

He spread out his fat hands imploringly, recrossing his enormous legs on
the card-table. "I can't fight, George; I would gladly, but I'm too fat.
Don't grudge me a few kindly oaths now and then. It's all I can do."