The other
proceeded:--
"The trench in my cheek is nothing to that within my soul. I tell you.
Munro, I hate the boy--I hate him with a hatred that must have a
tiger-draught from his veins, and even then I will not be satisfied. But
why talk I to you thus, when he is almost in my grasp; and there is
neither let nor hinderance? Sleeps he not in yon room to the northeast?"
"He does, Guy--but it must not be! I must not risk all for your passion,
which seems to me, as weak as it is without adequate provocation. I care
nothing for the youth, and you know it; but I will not run the thousand
risks which your temper is for ever bringing upon me. There is nothing
to be gained, and a great deal to be lost by it, at this time. As for
the scar--that, I think, is fairly a part of the business, and is not
properly a subject of personal revenge. It belongs to the adventure, and
you should not have engaged in it, without a due reference to its
possible consequences."
"You shall not keep me back by such objections as these.
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