And but that I should injure a woman whom life has done nothing but injure I should go out of your door this instant." He turned his back upon Harold Hazlewood and sat down in a chair opposite to Robert Pettifer.

A little round table separated them.

Pettifer, seated upon a couch, took from his pocket the envelope with the press-cuttings and spread them on the table in front of him.

Thresk lolled back in his chair.

It was plain that he was in no terror of Pettifer's examination.
"I am at your service," he said..