Why object, Gilmore, to a portfolio stand?"
"I DO object. For the third time, Mr. Fairlie, I beg that we may
be alone."
My tone and manner left him no alternative but to comply with my
request. He looked at the servant, and pointed peevishly to a
chair at his side.
"Put down the etchings and go away," he said. "Don't upset me by
losing my place. Have you, or have you not, lost my place? Are
you sure you have not? And have you put my hand-bell quite within
my reach? Yes? Then why the devil don't you go?"
The valet went out. Mr. Fairlie twisted himself round in his
chair, polished the magnifying glass with his delicate cambric
handkerchief, and indulged himself with a sidelong inspection of
the open volume of etchings. It was not easy to keep my temper
under these circumstances, but I did keep it.
"I have come here at great personal inconvenience," I said, "to
serve the interests of your niece and your family, and I think I
have established some slight claim to be favoured with your
attention in return."
"Don't bully me!" exclaimed Mr. Fairlie, falling back helplessly
in the chair, and closing his eyes. "Please don't bully me. I'm
not strong enough."
I was determined not to let him provoke me, for Laura Fairlie's
sake.
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