At that deadly turning of the meaning of his speech by the son of him who had nicknamed him “the man of property,” Soames stood glaring. It was ridiculous!

There they were, kept from violence by some secret force. No blow possible, no words to meet the case. But he could not, did not know how to turn and go away. His eyes fastened on Irene’s face⁠—the last time he would ever see that fatal face⁠—the last time, no doubt!

“You,” he said suddenly, “I hope you’ll treat him as you treated me⁠—that’s all.”