Ravenslee opened the matchbox. "Seems a pity to shake a confidence
so sublime," he sighed. "And yet--"
"An' see here again! I've known Hermy since we was kids, an' I don't
allow no man t' come stamping around here--see? So you're goin' t' quit,
an' you're goin' t' quit right now!"
"Do I look like a quitter, Mr. Flowers?"
Now beholding the speaker's lazy assurance of pose, the contemptuous
indifference of his general air, M'Ginnis stood speechless a moment, his
clenched fists quivering, while, above the loosely-tied scarf, his
powerful neck seemed to swell and show knotted cords that writhed and
twisted, and when at last he spoke, his words came in a panting rush.
"This is Hermy's flat, an' I guess--you think you're safe here--but you
ain't! I'm thinkin' out which'll do th' least harm to her furniture--to
lick ye here or drag you out on to the landin' first!"
Mr. Ravenslee lounged lower in the armchair and yawned behind the box of
matches. And in that moment, like a maddened animal, M'Ginnis leapt upon
him and, striking no blow, seized and shook Ravenslee in powerful,
frantic hands, while from between his lips, curled back from big, white
teeth, came a continuous, vicious, hissing sound.
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