"We were at practice, and my friend had the misfortune to be run through the arm." Chantel flung out his hands, in a motion at once furious and impudent.
"Zut! What a farce!--Will you tell me, please, since your friend has disabled himself"-- Heywood wheeled upon him, scornfully.
"You have no right to such an expression," he stated, with a coldness which conveyed more rage than the other man's heat.

"This was entirely my fault.

It's I who have spoiled your--arrangement, and therefore I am quite ready to take up my friend's quarrel." "I have no quarrel with you," replied Chantel, contemptuously.

"You saw last night how he--" "He was quicker than I, that's all.

By every circumstance, I'm the natural proxy.