But I was in a vile temper, for the dregs of the negro's rum still hummed in my blood.

His face grew dark, till he looked like the man I had seen the night before.
"I allow no man to slight my race," he said in a harsh voice.
"It's the truth whether you like it or not.

And you that claimed to be a gentleman! What is it they say about the Highlands ?" And I quoted a ribald Glasgow proverb.
What moved me to this insolence I cannot say, I was in the wrong, and I knew it, but I was too much of a child to let go my silly pride.
Ringan got up very quickly and walked three steps.

The blackness had gone from his face, and it was puzzled and melancholy.
"There's a precious lot of the bairn in you, Mr.Garvald," he said, "and an ugly spice of the Whiggamore.

I would have killed another man for half your words, and I've got to make you pay for them somehow." And he knit his brow and pondered.
"I'm ready," said I, with the best bravado I could muster, though the truth is I was sick at heart.