Trent held him at a distance easily and without effort.
"There's nothing for you to make a fuss about," he said gruffly.

"I answered a plain question, that's all.

I don't want to play at all.

I should most likely lose, and you're much better without the brandy." Monty was foaming with passion and baffled desire.

"You beast!" he cried, "you low, ill-bred cur! How dared you look at her picture! How dare you make me such an offer! Let me go, I say! Let me go!" But Trent did not immediately relax his grasp.