'A long way off, I believe?
Yes; I see! That part of the world is at a safe distance.' 'Say here, then,' rejoins the other, rising in a fury.

'Say anywhere! Your vanity is intolerable, your conceit is beyond endurance; you talk as if you were some rare and precious prize, instead of a common boaster.
You are a common fellow, and a common boaster.' 'Pooh, pooh,' says Edwin Drood, equally furious, but more collected; 'how should you know?
You may know a black common fellow, or a black common boaster, when you see him (and no doubt you have a large acquaintance that way); but you are no judge of white men.' This insulting allusion to his dark skin infuriates Neville to that violent degree, that he flings the dregs of his wine at Edwin Drood, and is in the act of flinging the goblet after it, when his arm is caught in the nick of time by Jasper.
'Ned, my dear fellow!' he cries in a loud voice; 'I entreat you, I command you, to be still!' There has been a rush of all the three, and a clattering of glasses and overturning of chairs.

'Mr.Neville, for shame! Give this glass to me.

Open your hand, sir.

I WILL have it!' But Neville throws him off, and pauses for an instant, in a raging passion, with the goblet yet in his uplifted hand.