I had forced a quarrel like an ill-mannered boy on the very man whose help I had come to seek.

And I saw, too, that I had gone just that bit too far for which no recantation would win pardon.
"What sort of way are you ready ?" he asked politely.

"You would fight me with your pistols, but you haven't got them, and this is no a matter that will wait.

I could spit you in a jiffy with my sword, but it wouldna be fair.

It strikes me that you and me are ill matched.