" Ingram cursed, and sprang at him, but
Glyde stiffened his arm and held him off. Master was no match for man, and
felt no better for the knowledge of that. It did serve, however, to bring
him to his senses. He saw that he was making an ass of himself.
"You'll hear more of this," he said, and turned and walked rapidly back to
the house.
Mortification inflamed his rage; his furious walking blew into it a sense
of incurable injury. Injury, shocked pride, and animal heat altogether
made a devil of him. He went directly to his own room, and rang the bell.
"Send Miss Percival to me," he told Minnie, "at once."
Then he waited for her, with a face like a rat.
XI
She might have gathered warning from Minnie's panting summons, but had
been busy over her accounts and had noticed nothing amiss.
"He wants you, Miss Percival! Don't go!" She had scarcely heard. She said,
"Who wants me? Mr. Ingram? I'll come;" and though the maid stammered, "I
wouldn't, oh, I wouldn't," had gone.
The face he showed her from his bureau, where he sat huddled over a litter
of papers, prepared her instantly for crisis; snarling, white and wicked,
yet it had tragedy in it--as if he knew that he had himself to reckon with
beyond all.
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