"What did he tell you about me, last night, after I was gone, hey?" he said hoarsely, jerking his thumb in the general direction of the great house. Andrew felt trapped. "I do not recall that we discussed any one of your qualities in particular," he said finally. The man galled him, but he was resolved to be civil. "Qualities!" said Mr. Cave, scornfully. "Qualities, hell. He told you I was a bastard--didn't he now? A London lawyer's bastard without even a decent name to his back?" His voice was vinegary. He looked Andrew up and down with red, peering eyes. "I assure you, Mr. Cave," said Andrew, still grasping at civility, "that even if Dr. Gentian did happen to refer to the--the unhappy circumstances of your birth--" "Listen to me!" said Mr. Cave with sudden violence, "You can't talk fine to me--I don't want any of your stinking New York sop! I'm a bastard, all right--I knew he'd tell you--well, if I am--" he beat his fist in his palm, "I don't want any damn cocked-hat pity from you or him neither--savvy? I take care of myself--savvy? I could stake the two of you out in the sun to dry there for boucan--savvy? All right--now you go and snigger about me with him over your wine as much as you damn well want to!" The hoarse, brief explosion of his rage left Andrew stunned for an instant. He felt as if he had stretched out his hand in the dark and put it upon a toad. "Oh--go to the devil!" he said, rather impotently, and started to walk away in a fog of anger. But already the man's fit had passed and he was running after him with apologies. "Mr. Beard! Mr. Beard! I didn't mean anything, sir--I swear I didn't! I get a fit like that every now and then--Dr. Gentian knows it--he never pays any attention to it. You aren't going to tell him, Mr. Beard? You aren't going to--" The tawdry tears were actually running down his cheeks. It took some time for Andrew, loathing them both, to quiet him with promises and assurances. Then the man relapsed into his usual heavy sullenness and the tour of instruction proceeded. But even the crowded months since then had not been able to obliterate the shoddy scene from Andrew's memory. Then there was the time, a month or so later, when Mr. Cave had been about to take the whip to the Minorcan. The Minorcan was the fine-looking fellow whom Andrew had noticed on his first day at New Sparta, and Andrew had stopped the projected whipping in short order, for he was used to his work by then, and conscious of Dr. Gentian's favor. But again, he would not easily forget the Minorcan's clenched face as Mr. Cave had whistled the rawhide lash in his hands in preparation to strike, nor Mr. Cave's dull fury when Andrew had intervened.