Westmacott moved a step or two forward, a swagger unmistakable in his gait, his nether-lip thrust out in a sneer.
"Why," said he, his voice mighty disdainful, "if Mr.Wilding apologizes, the matter hardly can go further." He conveyed such a suggestion of regret at this that Trenchard bounded forward, stung to speech.
"But if Mr.Westmacott's disappointment threatens to overwhelm him," he snapped, very tartly, "I am his humble servant, and he may call upon me to see that he's not robbed of the exercise he came to take." Mr.Wilding set a restraining hand upon Trenchard's arm.
Westmacott turned to him, the sneer, however, gone from his face.
"I have no quarrel with you, sir," said he, with an uneasy assumption of dignity.
"It's a want that may be soon supplied," answered Trenchard briskly, and, as he afterwards confessed, had not Wilding checked him at that moment, he had thrown his hat in Richard's face.
It was Vallancey who saved the situation, cursing in his heart the bearing of his principal.
"Mr.Wilding," said he, "this is very handsome in you.

You are of the happy few who may tender such an apology without reflection upon your courage." Mr.Wilding made him a leg very elegantly.

"You are vastly kind, sir," said he.
"You have given Mr.Westmacott the fullest satisfaction, and it is with an increased respect for you--if that were possible--that I acknowledge it on my friend's behalf." "You are, sir, a very mirror of the elegancies," said Mr.Wilding, and Vallancey wondered was he being laughed at.

Whether he was or not, he conceived that he had done the only seemly thing.

He had made handsome acknowledgment of a handsome apology, stung to it by the currishness of Richard.
And there the matter ended, despite Trenchard's burning eagerness to carry it himself to a different consummation.