Which Narrates Sundry Happenings at Oakshott's Barn

"I tell you C-Chichester, it will be either him or m-me!"

"If he--condescends to fight you, my dear Ronald."

"C-condescend?" cried Barrymaine, and it needed but a glance at his
flushed cheek and swaying figure to see that he had been drinking
more heavily than usual. "C-condescend, damn his insolence!
Condescend, will he? I'll give him no chance for his c-cursed
condescension, I--I tell you, Chichester, I'll--"

"But you can't make a man fight, Ronald."

"Can't I? Why then if he won't fight I'll--"

"Hush! don't speak so loud!"

"Well, I will, Chichester,--s-so help me God, I will!"

"Will--what, Ronald?"

"W-wait and see!"

"You don't mean--murder, Ronald?"

"I didn't s-say so, d-did I?"

"Of course not, my dear Barrymaine, but--shall I take the pistols?"
And Mr. Chichester stretched out his hand towards a flat, oblong box
that Barrymaine carried clutched beneath his arm. "Better give them
to me, Ronald."

"No,--w-why should I?"

"Well,--in your present mood--"

"I--I'm not--d-drunk,--damme, I'm not, I tell you! And I'll give
the f-fellow every chance--honorable meeting."

"Then, if he refuses to fight you, as of course he will, you'll let
him go to--ah--make love to Cleone?"

"No, by God!" cried Barrymaine in a sudden, wild fury, "I-I'll
sh-shoot him first!"

"Kill him?"

"Yes, k-kill him!"

"Oh no you won't, Ronald, for two reasons. First of all, it would be
murder--!"

"Murder!" Barrymaine repeated, "so it would--murder! Yes, by God!"

"And secondly, you haven't the nerve. Though he has clandestine
meetings with your sister, though he crush you into the mud, trample
you under his feet, throw you into a debtor's prison to rot out your
days--though he ruin you body and soul, and compromise your sister's
honor--still you'd never--murder him, Ronald, you couldn't, you
haven't the heart, because it would be--murder!"