The horse was
visible outside in the drizzle at the door, my breakfast was put on
the table, Drummle's was cleared away, the waiter invited me to
begin, I nodded, we both stood our ground.
"Have you been to the Grove since?" said Drummle.
"No," said I, "I had quite enough of the Finches the last time I
was there."
"Was that when we had a difference of opinion?"
"Yes," I replied, very shortly.
"Come, come! They let you off easily enough," sneered Drummle. "You
shouldn't have lost your temper."
"Mr. Drummle," said I, "you are not competent to give advice on that
subject. When I lose my temper (not that I admit having done so on
that occasion), I don't throw glasses."
"I do," said Drummle.
After glancing at him once or twice, in an increased state of
smouldering ferocity, I said,--
"Mr. Drummle, I did not seek this conversation, and I don't think it
an agreeable one."
"I am sure it's not," said he, superciliously over his shoulder; "I
don't think anything about it."
"And therefore," I went on, "with your leave, I will suggest that
we hold no kind of communication in future."
"Quite my opinion," said Drummle, "and what I should have suggested
myself, or done--more likely--without suggesting. But don't lose
your temper. Haven't you lost enough without that?"
"What do you mean, sir?"
"Waiter!," said Drummle, by way of answering me.
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