he could no longer see Madame Koller, almost frightened him into convulsions.
Pembroke had meant to be very prudent with Ahlberg, and particularly to avoid anything like a dispute. He felt that the natural antagonism between them would be likely to produce a quarrel unless he were remarkably careful, and as he regarded Ahlberg with great contempt, he had a firm determination never to give him either cause or chance of offense. According to the tradition in which he had been raised, a quarrel between two men was liable to but one outcome—an archaic one, it is true, but one which made men extremely cautious and careful not to offend. If a blow once passed it became a tragedy. Pembroke promised himself prudence, knowing that he had not the coolest temper in the world. But when, some days after the dinner, they met, this time in the road also, and Ahlberg's first remark was "What capital fun we had with our friend Cole!" Pembroke's temper instantly got the better of him.
"Mr. Ahlberg, do you think it quite a gentlemanly thing to invite a man like Cole to accept your hospitality in a woman's house, and then deliberately to make him drunk?" asked he.
Ahlberg's sallow skin grew a little paler.
"Is that your view?" he asked, coolly. "I understand something occurred with Madame Koller, which you naturally resent."
As Ahlberg's face grew whiter, Pembroke's grew redder. He felt that first savage impulse to seize
