The blood came into his face, and he added: "But I will say that if you speak again of Mr.
Lindau in those terms, one of us must leave this room.

I will not hear you." Dryfoos looked at him with astonishment; then he struck his hat down on his head, and stamped out of the room and down the stairs; and a vague pity came into March's heart that was not altogether for himself.

He might be the greater sufferer in the end, but he was sorry to have got the better of that old man for the moment; and he felt ashamed of the anger into which Dryfoos's anger had surprised him.

He knew he could not say too much in defence of Lindau's generosity and unselfishness, and he had not attempted to defend him as a political economist.

He could not have taken any ground in relation to Dryfoos but that which he held, and he felt satisfied that he was right in refusing to receive instructions or commands from him.