Aristocracy (Social class) -- Fiction; Europeans -- United States -- Fiction; New York (N.Y.) -- Fiction
"Besides," said Mr. Bramble, "one doesn't fight duels in this country,
any more than one does in England. It's quite against the law."
"I sha'n't need any one to represent me when it comes to punching his
head," said Mr. Trotter.
"It's against the law, strictly speaking, to punch a person's head,"
began Mr. Bramble nervously.
"But it's not against the law, confound you, Bramby, to provide a legal
excuse for going to jail, is it? He says he's going to put me there.
Well, I intend to make it legal and--"
"Oh, goodness!" cried Miss Emsdale, in dismay.
"--And I'm not going to jail for nothing, you can stake your life on
that."
"Do you think, Mr. Trotter, that it will add to my happiness if you are
lodged in jail on my account?" said she. "Haven't I done you sufficient
injury--"
"Now, you are not to talk like that," he interrupted, reddening.
"But I _shall_ talk like that," she said firmly. "I have not come here
to ask you to take up my battles for me but to warn you of danger.
Please do not interrupt me. I know you would enjoy it, and all that sort
of thing, but it isn't to be considered. Hear me out."
She went on with her story. Young Mr. Smith-Parvis, still contending
that he was a gentleman and a friend as well as an abject adorer, made
it very plain to her that he would stand no foolishness. He told her
precisely what he would do unless she eased up a bit and acted like a
good, sensible girl. He would have her dismissed without character and
he would see to it that no respectable house would be open to her after
she left the service of the Smith-Parvises.
"But couldn't you put the true situation before his parents and tell 'em
what sort of a rotten bounder he is?" demanded Trotter.
"You do not know them, Mr. Trotter," she said forlornly.
"And they'd kick you out without giving you a chance to prove to them
that he is a filthy liar and--"
"Just as Mr. Carpenter kicked you out," she said.
"By gad, I--I wouldn't stay in their house another day if I were you,"
he exclaimed wrathfully. "I'd quit so quickly they wouldn't have time
to--"
"And then what?" she asked bitterly. "Am I so rich and independent as
all that? You forget that I must have a 'character,' Mr. Trotter. That,
you see, would be denied me. I could not obtain employment. Even Mrs.
Sparflight would be powerless to help me after the character they would
give me."
"But, good Lord, you--you're not going to stay on in the house with that
da--that nasty brute, are you?" he cried, aghast.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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