We are all men of the world here, and know what women are. If it
is true every man has his price, every woman has a smaller---"
Before he could utter another word a blow in his face from Stanton
sent him sprawling to the earth. He sprang up and was about to
draw a concealed weapon, when his companions interfered and held
him.
"I shall settle with you for this," he half shouted, grinding his
teeth.
"You shall indeed, sir," said Stanton, "and as early, too, as the
light will permit to-morrow. Here is my friend Mr. Van Berg,"
pointing to the artist who stood beside him, "and you have your
friends with you. You must either apologize, or meet me as soon
as Sunday is past."
"I'll meet you now," cried Sibley, with a volley of oaths. "I want
no cowardly subterfuge of Sunday."
Stanton hesitated a moment, and then said decidedly:
"No; I'm not a blackguard like yourself, and out of respect for the
Sabbath and others I will have nothing more to do with you to-day;
but I will meet you tomorrow as soon as it is light;" and Stanton
turned away to avoid further provocation.
Van Berg thus far had stood quietly to one side, but his face had
that white, rigid aspect which indicates the rare but dangerous
anger of men usually quiet and undemonstrative in their natures.
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