You know that from our old bouts.

Pistols had better be the word." "As you please, George Warrington--and God forgive you, George! God pardon you, Harry! for bringing me into this quarrel," said the Colonel, with a face full of sadness and gloom.
Harry hung his head, but George continued with perfect calmness: "I, sir?
It was not I who called names, who talked of a cane, who insulted a gentleman in a public place before gentlemen of the army.

It is not the first time you have chosen to take me for a negro, and talked of the whip for me." The Colonel started back, turning very red, and as if struck by a sudden remembrance.
"Great heavens, George! is it that boyish quarrel you are still recalling ?" "Who made you the overseer of Castlewood ?" said the boy, grinding his teeth.

"I am not your slave, George Washington, and I never will be.

I hated you then, and I hate you now.