His hand was raised, and there was fury in his eyes. The words seemed surging in his brain, and burnt upon his heart. The tone of them lashed him to perfect madness. If he had got hold of Otho’s collar the results might have been unpleasant, but he felt Gilbert’s hand on his arm, and Gilbert’s voice whispered in his ear— ‘Don’t you see he is just leading you on? You are not a prize-fighter, if he is. Let him go!’ Roger’s hand dropped. Otho was watching him with a look of hatred in his face which was far stronger than the sneer which his lips tried to form. He was insolent, and he carried the matter off with a laugh, but it had roused his worst hatred and his blackest animosity. ‘I said I would go in three months,’ said Roger, constrainedly, clenching his hands down, to keep himself under control; ‘but you have made that impossible. You can look out for yourself from this moment. I will not darken your doors again, if I can help it.’ With which, picking up his hat, he pushed Otho unceremoniously to one side, and walked out, leaving the others to make the best of the situation. His heart was sick as he walked away. Such a scene his very soul abhorred. All the tingling desire to chastise Otho seemed to evaporate as he left his presence. He felt again nothing but loathing, aversion, and a wish to keep as clear of him as possible. But reptiles can sting, and Otho had stung. As Roger passed through the street, and saw the windows of Ada’s home, his impulse was to call there and see her; he hesitated, paused, walked on. ‘She’s not worth thinking twice about. Which was the worst, eh?—she or I?’ His heart, wrung with shame and anguish, called upon her name. No. He must not go in now. He must wait until hours had passed, and reflection had come to his aid. He went on to the Red Gables, and found Michael just in from his first round. To him Roger related what had happened, and what he had done. ‘I could not help it,’ he said. ‘I began civilly enough, and prudently enough; but when that cur gives tongue I lose my head. He has never happened to do it before, about anything in which I had any concern; but as soon as he began, it was all up with me. I left him and your excellent brother to settle it as they best could; I walked off.’ ‘Well, I cannot blame you,’ said Michael, when he had heard him out. should’ have done the same, or more. But it is an odious business.’ ‘It is a vile business,’ replied Roger, gloomily; ‘and until after Christmas, I shall be at a loose end, for it is useless trying to see after anything before then.’ CHAPTER XXIX A FALSE STEP IN GOOD FAITH