"Because I have begun to like you."

Turnbull's face had a sudden spasm in the sunlight, a change so
instantaneous that it left no trace behind it; and his features
seemed still carved into a cold stare. But when he spoke again he
seemed like a man who was placidly pretending to misunderstand
something that he understood perfectly well.

"Your affection expresses itself in an abrupt form," he began,
but MacIan broke the brittle and frivolous speech to pieces with
a violent voice. "Do not trouble to talk like that," he said.
"You know what I mean as well as I know it. Come on and fight, I
say. Perhaps you are feeling just as I do."

Turnbull's face flinched again in the fierce sunlight, but his
attitude kept its contemptuous ease.

"Your Celtic mind really goes too fast for me," he said; "let me
be permitted in my heavy Lowland way to understand this new
development. My dear Mr. MacIan, what do you really mean?"

MacIan still kept the shining sword-point towards the other's
breast.

"You know what I mean. You mean the same yourself. We must
fight now or else----"

"Or else?" repeated Turnbull, staring at him with an almost
blinding gravity.