I want that bit of seat in front for my feet.' Morsfield kicked at his horse's flanks, and between Weyburn and the chariot step, cried: 'Back, sir!' His reins were seized; the horse reared, the unexpected occurred.
Weyburn shouted 'Off!' to the postillion, and jumped in.
Morsfield was left to the shaking of a dusty coat, while the chariot rolled its gentle course down the leafy lane into the high-road.
His friend had seized the horse's bridle-reins; and he remarked: 'I say, Dolf, we don't prosper to-day.' 'He pays for it!' said Morsfield, foot in stirrup.

'You'll take him and trounce him at the inn.

I don't fight with servants.

Better game.

One thing, Cumnock: the fellow's clever at the foils.' 'Foils to the devil! If I tackle the fellow, it won't be with the buttons.