'"
"I won't," cried Dale, loudly; and he struck the table with his
clenched fist. "I'm not goin' to crawl on my belly any more. I've done
it in my time, when perhaps I felt myself wrong. But I won't do it now
when I'm right--no, so help me, God, I won't."
It was as if all restraints had been burst by the notion of such
injustice.
"Ah, well," said Ridgett, looking uncomfortable, "then I must withdraw
the suggestion."
Mavis Dale was trembling. Her husband's noisy outburst seemed to have
shaken her nerves; the downward lines formed themselves at the corners
of her mouth; and her eyelids fluttered as if she were on the verge of
tears. "Will," she murmured, "you--you ought to listen, if it's good
advice. Mr. Ridgett knows the ropes--he, he has experience--and he
means you well."
"Indeed I do," said Ridgett cordially.
"And I thank you for it, sir," said Dale. "And now--" He mastered his
emotions and was calm and polite again, as became a host. "Now, what
about two or three whiffs?"
"If madam permits."
"Mav don't mind. She's smoke-dried."
All three remained sitting at the table. The two men smoked their
pipes reflectively, and spoke only at intervals, while Mavis sank into
the motionless silence of a deep reverie.
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