"Do you suppose I'm going with that blow burning in my gullet?" he thundered. "By hell, no! I'll crush his ribs in like a rotten hazel-nut before I cross the threshold! If I don't floor him now, I shall murder him some time; so, as you value his existence, let me get at him!"
"He is not coming," I interposed, framing a bit of a lie. "There's the coachman and the two gardeners; you'll surely not wait to be thrust into the road by them! Each has a bludgeon; and master will, very likely, be watching from the parlour-windows to see that they fulfil his orders."

'Do you suppose I'm going with that blow burning in my gullet?' he thundered. 'By hell, no! I'll crush his ribs like a rotten hazel-nut! If I don't floor him now, I shall murder him some time; so let me get at him!'
'He is not coming,' I interposed, although I was telling a lie. 'There's the coachman and the two gardeners, each with a bludgeon; and master will be watching from the parlour-windows to see them throw you out.'
