"You thought I would be afraid to resent this," he said, with just a faint tinge of bitterness.

I was interested enough to discern the slightest shades of expression, but I was not in the least enlightened; yet I don't know what in these words, or perhaps just the intonation of that phrase, induced me suddenly to make all possible allowances for him.

I ceased to be annoyed at my unexpected predicament.

It was some mistake on his part; he was blundering, and I had an intuition that the blunder was of an odious, of an unfortunate nature.

I was anxious to end this scene on grounds of decency, just as one is anxious to cut short some unprovoked and abominable confidence.
The funniest part was, that in the midst of all these considerations of the higher order I was conscious of a certain trepidation as to the possibility--nay, likelihood--of this encounter ending in some disreputable brawl which could not possibly be explained, and would make me ridiculous.