"Is my mother's name to be upon the lips of that bastard?
By God, man, the matter rests not here.

He shall send his friends to me, or I will horse-whip him every time we meet.

You hear, Sir Oliver ?" Sir Oliver made him no reply.
"You hear ?" he roared.

"There is no Sir John Killigrew this time upon whom you can shift the quarrel.

Come you to me and get the punishment of which that whiplash is but an earnest." Then with a thick laugh he drove spurs into his horse's flanks, so furiously that he all but sent the parson and another sprawling.
"Stay but a little while for me," roared Sir Oliver after him.