I'm a good-tempered man, but I won't stand your
impudence."
Clenching his bowler hat, and only kept in his seat by that sense of
something behind, Bob Pillin ejaculated:
"Impudence! That's good--after what you did! Look here, why did you?
It's so extraordinary!"
Mr. Ventnor answered:
"Oh! is it? You wait a bit, my friend!"
Still more moved by the mystery of this affair, Bob Pillin could only
mutter:
"I never gave you their address; we were only talking about old
Heythorp."
And at the smile which spread between Mr. Ventnor's whiskers, he jumped
up, crying:
"It's not the thing, and you're not going to put me off. I insist on an
explanation."
Mr. Ventnor leaned back, crossing his stout legs, joining the tips of
his thick fingers. In this attitude he was always self-possessed.
"You do--do you?"
"Yes. You must have had some reason."
Mr. Ventnor gazed up at him.
"I'll give you a piece of advice, young cock, and charge you nothing
for it, too: Ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies. And here's
another: Go away before you forget yourself again."
The natural stolidity of Bob Pilings face was only just proof against
this speech.
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