It was a disagreeable moment. Daniel's lean, sallow visage had no
aptitude for the expression of shame, but his eyes grew very round,
and his teeth showed in a hard grin.
"Why, Piers, my boy! Again we meet in a London street--which is
rhyme, and sounds like Browning, doesn't it? _Comment ca va-t-il_?"
Piers shook hands very coldly, without pretence of a smile.
"I am walking on," he said. "Yours is the other way, I think."
"What! You wish to cut me? Pray, your exquisite reason?"
"Well, then, I think you have behaved meanly and dishonourably to
me. I don't wish to discuss the matter, only to make myself
understood."
His ability to use this language, and to command himself as he did
so, was a surprise to Piers. Nothing he disliked more than personal
altercation; he shrank from it at almost any cost. But the sight of
Daniel, the sound of his artificial voice, moved him deeply with
indignation, and for the first time in his life he spoke out. Having
done so, he had a pleasurable sensation; he felt his assured
manhood.
Daniel was astonished, disconcerted, but showed no disposition to
close the interview; turning, he walked along by his brother.
"I suppose I know what you refer to. But let me explain. I think my
explanation will interest you."
"No, I'm afraid it will not," replied Piers quietly.
"In any case, lend me your ears. You are offended by my failure to
pay that debt.
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