You don't know what you're about." "Don't I?
Well, then, take _that_, to show whether I do or no!" and suddenly leaning forward, he struck Montagu a violent back-handed blow on the mouth.
Everybody saw it, everybody heard it; and it instantly astounded them into silence.

That Montagu should have been struck in public, and that by Eric--by a boy who had loved him, and whom he had loved--by a boy who had been his schoolfellow for three years now, and whose whole life seemed bound to him by so many associations; it was strange, and sad indeed.
Montagu sprang straight upright; for an instant he took one stride towards his striker with lifted hand and lightning eyes, while the blood started to his lips in consequence of the blow.

But he stopped suddenly and his hand fell to his side; by a strong effort of self-control he contrived to master himself, and sitting down quite quietly on a chair, he put his white handkerchief to his wounded mouth, and took it away stained with blood.
No one spoke; and rising with quiet dignity, he went back into his study without a word.
"Very well," said Duncan; "you may all do as you like; only I heartily hope now you will be caught.

Come, Owen." "Oh, Williams," said Owen, "you are changed indeed, to treat your best friend so." But Eric was excited with drink, and the slave of every evil passion at that moment.

"Serve him right," he said; "what business has he to interfere with what I choose to do ?" There was no more noise that night.