"What's that?" ejaculated the ruffian, glancing uneasily towards the window. Without whisky," went on McClintock, "your irritability is beyond tolerance. I shall lose my fees and the laced coat. I don’t know why that should be so acutely humiliating. Brendon. ” He said bravely. “I hate you because you are the Devil! Rot in Hell!” She was shocked at her own accusation, how she had savored the words. It was a moment or two before Gerald, opening his eyes on the girl’s astounded expression, recollected himself sufficiently to pull out of the extraordinary impact she’d had on him.
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