to accept explanations.

"You don't believe me?" I said.

"Candidly, I don't," he replied.

And at that my temper finally blazed. I could not bear any longer either
that awful sense of frustration or the sight of Frank Jervaise's absurdly
portentous scowl.

I did not clench my fists, but I presume my purpose showed suddenly in my
face, for he moved quickly backwards with a queer, nervous jerk of the
head that was the precise counterpart of the parrot-like twist his mother
had given at the luncheon table. It was an odd movement, at once timid and
vicious, and in an instant I saw the spirit of Frank Jervaise revealed to
me. He was a coward, hiding his weakness under that coarse mask of the
brooding, relentless hawk. He had winced and retreated at my unspoken
threat, as he had winced at the thought of his thrashing at school. He had
taken his punishment stoically enough then, and might take another with
equal fortitude now; though he had been weakened in the past five or six
years by the immunity his frowning face had won for him. But he could not
meet the promise of a thrashing. I saw that he would do anything, make any
admission, to avoid that.

"Look here, Melhuish..." he began, but I cut him short.

"Oh! go to hell," I said savagely.

I was disappointed. I wanted to fight him. I knew now that since the scene
I had witnessed in the wood the primitive savage in me had been longing
for some excuse to break out in its own primitive, savage way. And once
again I was frustrated. I was just too civilised to leap at him without
further excuse.

He gave me none.

"If you're going to take that tone..." he said with a ridiculous
affectation of bravado, and did not complete his sentence. His evasion
was, perhaps, the best that he could have managed in the circumstances. It
was so obvious that only the least further incentive was required to make
me an irresponsible madman. And he dared not risk it.

He turned away with a pretence of dignity, the craven brag of a schoolboy
who says, "I could lick you if I wanted to, but I don't happen to want
to." I watched him as he walked back towards the avenue with a
deliberation that was so artificial, I could swear that when he reached
the turn he would break into a run.

I stood still in the same place long after he was out of sight. As my
short-lived passion evaporated, I began to realise that I was really in a
very awkward situation. I could not and would not return to the Hal