"Why don't you shut your ugly mouth?"
"It's as much as my situation's worth," protested Charlie.
"You should have thought of that before," said Hoopdriver.
"There's no occasion to be so thunderin' 'ot about it. I only
meant the thing joking," said Charlie. "AS one gentleman to
another, I'm very sorry if the gentleman's annoyed--"
Everybody began to speak at once. Mr. Hoopdriver twirled his
moustache. He felt that Charlie's recognition of his
gentlemanliness was at any rate a redeeming feature. But it
became his pose to ride hard and heavy over the routed fo c. He
shouted some insulting phrase over the tumult.
"You're regular abject," the man in gaiters was saying to
Charlie.
More confusion.
"Only don't think I'm afraid,--not of a spindle-legged cuss like
him shouted Charlie. "Because I ain't."
"Change of front," thought Hoopdriver, a little startled. "Where
are we going?"
"Don't sit there and be abusive," said the man in velveteen.
"He's offered to hit you, and if I was him, I'd hit you now."
"All right, then," said Charlie, with a sudden change of front
and springing to his feet. "If I must, I must. Now, then!" At
that, Hoopdriver, the child of Fate, rose too, with a horrible
sense that his internal monitor was right. Things had taken a
turn. He had made a mess of it, and now there was nothing for it,
so far as he could see, but to hit the man at once. He and
Charlie stood six feet apart, with a table between, both very
breathless and fierce.
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