Haven't you now? You'd
better cry 'Peccavi.'"
Then, in the deathly silence of the room, the moral force of his
position, and the collapse as it seemed of his opponent, awakening a
faint compunction, he took a turn over the Turkey carpet to readjust his
mind.
"You're an old man, and I don't want to be too hard on you. I'm only
showing you that you can't play fast and loose as if you were God
Almighty any longer. You've had your own way too many years. And now
you can't have it, see!" Then, as the old man again moved forward in his
chair, he added: "Now, don't get into a passion again; calm yourself,
because I warn you--this is your last chance. I'm a man of my word; and
what I say, I do."
By a violent and unsuspected effort the old man jerked himself up and
reached the bell. Mr. Ventnor heard it ring, and said sharply:
"Mind you, it's nothing to me which you do. I came for your own good.
Please yourself. Well?"
He was answered by the click of the door and the old man's husky voice:
"Show this hound out! And then come back!"
Mr. Ventnor had presence of mind enough not to shake his fist.
Muttering: "Very well, Mr. Heythorp! Ah! Very well!" he moved with
dignity to the door.
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