“Speaking to a gentleman? A nice sort of gentleman! You mean an uncertificated bankrupt, who won’t do the right thing by his family and marry the girl who could set them on their legs again; a pious humbug who preaches to everybody else, but isn’t above carrying on a low intrigue with a barmaid, and then having the impudence to say that he means to disgrace us by marrying her.” “I have asked you to lower your voice, Mr. Milward.” “Lower my voice? I think it is high time to raise it when I find myself let in for an engagement with the sister of a man who does such things. You needn’t look at _me,_ Sir Henry Graves,—Sir Henry indeed! I repeat, ‘let in.’ However, you must mend your manners, or Ellen will suffer for it, that is all; for I shall throw her over and wash my hands of the whole show. The bankruptcy is bad enough, but I’m hanged if I will stand the barmaid. Edward Milward of Upcott with a barmaid for a sister-in-law! Not if he knows it.” Then Henry answered, in a quiet and ominous voice: “You have been so good, Mr. Milward, doubtless more in kindness than in anger, as to point out to me with great directness the errors, or assumed errors, of my ways. Allow me, before I say anything further, to point out to you an error in yours, about which there is no possibility of doubt. You say that you propose ‘to throw over’ my sister, not on account of anything that she has done, but because of acts which I am supposed to have done. In my judgment it will indeed be fortunate for her should you take this course. But not the less do I feel bound to tell you, that the man who behaves thus towards a woman, having no cause of offence against her, is not what is usually understood by the term gentleman. So much for my sister: now for myself. It seems to me that there is only one answer possible to conduct and language such as you have thought fit to make use of; and were I well, much as I dislike violence, I should not hesitate to apply it. I should, Mr. Milward, kick you out of this room and down yonder stairs, and, should my strength not fail me, across that garden. Being crippled at present, I am unable to advance this argument. I must, therefore, do the best I can.” And, taking up the crutch that stood by his chair, Henry hurled it straight at him. “Now go!” he thundered; and Mr. Milward went.