In the very strength of Harold's anger, in the poignancy of his concern, in the relief to his soul expressed in his eyes and his voice, his antagonist realised the jealousy of one who honours--and loves.

Second by second Leonard grew more sober, and more and better able to carry his own idea into act.
'Give me my letter!' he began.
'Wait!' said Harold as he put the lamp back into its socket.

'That will do presently.

Take back what you said just now!' 'What?
Take back what ?' 'That base lie; that Miss Norman asked you to marry her.' Leonard felt that in a physical struggle for the possession of the letter he would be outmatched; but his passion grew colder and more malignant, and in a voice that cut like the hiss of a snake he spoke slowly and deliberately.

He was all sober now; the drunkenness of brain and blood was lost, for the time, in the strength of his cold passion.
'It is true.