He had intended to say much, to do some mighty ranting.

But before Mr.Caryll's cold half-bantering reduction of facts to their true values, he felt himself robbed of words.

"You hang!" he ended shortly.
"Ye're sure of that ?" questioned Mr.Caryll.
"I would I were as sure of Heaven." "I think you may be--just about as sure," Mr.Caryll rejoined, entirely unperturbed, and he sauntered forward towards Hortensia.

Rotherby and his mother watched him, exchanging glances.
Then Rotherby shrugged and sneered.

"'Tis his bluster," said he.