You idiot!"-- as the mare plunged and tore the stirrup-leather from Taffy's grip--"She'll brain you, if you fool round her heels like that!" "Come off, then." "Very well." George backed a little, swung himself out of the saddle and faced him on the beach.

"Now perhaps you'll explain." "You've come from the headland ?" "Well ?" "From Lizzie Pezzack's." "Well, and what then ?" "Only this, that so sure as you've a wife at home, if you come to the headland again I'll kill you; and if you're a man, you'll put up your fists now." "Oh, that's it?
May I ask what you have to do with my wife, or with Lizzie Pezzack ?" "Whose child is Lizzie's ?" "Not yours, is it ?" "You said so once; you told your wife so; liar that you were." "Very good, my gentleman.

You shall have what you want.

Woa, mare!" He led her up the beach and sought for a branch to tie his reins to.
The mare hung back, terrified by the swishing of the whipped boughs and the roar of the gale overhead: her hoofs, as George dragged her forward, scuffled with the loose-lying stones on the beach.

After a minute he desisted and turned on Taffy again.
"Look here; before we have this out there's one thing I'd like to know.