No description can do justice to the intensity of its
insolence; it made even Mr. Fullarton's torpid blood boil resentfully.
"How dare you address such words to me?" he cried out, trembling with
rage. "If it were not for my profession--"
"Stop!" the other broke in, rudely; "you need not trouble yourself to
repeat that stale clap-trap. You mean to say that, if I were not safe
from your profession, I should not have said so much. It isn't worth
while lying to yourself, and I have no time to trifle. The converse is
the truer way of putting it. You know better than I can tell you that,
if you had been unfrocked, you would never have ventured half what you
have done to day. You don't stir from hence till this is settled. Do you
suppose I'll allow my private affairs to be made, again, an occasion for
indulging your taste for theatricals?"
The chaplain flushed apoplectically. He just managed to stammer out,
"I will not remain another instant to listen to your blasphemous
insults. If you mean to prevent me from passing, I will return another
way."
Scornfully
He turned; but thrilled with priestly wrath, to feel
His sacred arm locked in a grasp of steel.
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