They let me go. On the doorstep I found an individual who had his own notions of propriety. With scant ceremony he endeavoured, without a word of explanation, to force his way into the house. I am not a man with whom every one finds it easy to play that kind of game. When I am pushed, I push. Placing my hand against his chest, he went backwards across the pavement at a run.
"Manners, sir! Manners!" I observed.
He seemed surprised—as a man is apt to do, who, proposing to play the bully, finds himself bullied instead. His hat had fallen off; he himself had almost fallen too.
"Who the devil are you, sir?"
"Saving a reference to any acquaintance of yours, that is the question which I should like to put to you, sir."
Picking up his hat, he came towards me, with a blusterous air.
"I want to see Philip Lawrence—at once."
"Do you indeed! That's unfortunate. You have come to the wrong place for your want to be supplied. Mr. Philip Lawrence doesn't happen to be in."
"Tell that tale to some one else; don't try it on me; I've heard it before. I'll wait till he is in."
"By all means; let me show you the way inside."
