. .
You . . . You are no scholar, sir! And your Greek is
contemptible! . . .
[He crosses to AUNTIE.] Martha! You are no sister of mine
henceforward! [Going, he returns to her.] Anathema maranatha!
[He bounces up to the door, but turns back again for a last word
with MANSON.]
And I have one word for you, sir! You are a scoundrel, sir--a
cheat, an impostor! And if I could have my way with you, I would
have you publicly whipped: I would visit you with the utmost rigour
of the law: I would nail you up, sir, for an example!
MANSON. I have encountered similar hostility before, my lord--from
gentlemen very like your lordship. Allow me . . .
[He opens the door, his eyes flashing.]
BISHOP. Don't trouble, sir. I can get my hat and my stick and my
portmanteau for myself! I can do very well without your
assistance--thank God!
[He stumps out. MANSON closes the door after him, barring it, as
it were, with his great left arm. He lifts the other arm slowly,
as commanding silence. After a moment the front door is heard
slamming noisily.
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