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Kyley shouted an uncomplimentary summary of Quigley's character from behind the counter. Jim alone advanced to interfere. 'Drop it, Quigley, he said quietly, but his warmer feelings stirred. 'Blast it, man, let the girl be! 'An' have my brains knocked out with a bottle? I'll see you flaming first! Done pressed Aurora's fingers apart, and threw the bottle behind the counter.
'Now release her! he said in a tone conveying a threat. 'Mind your own infernal business! answered Pete. 'I'll deal with you in half a minute. 'Release her! Done was at Quigley's throat with a grip that started Pete's eyes from their sockets, and the elder digger abandoned his hold on Aurora to fight for his own breath. There was a brief struggle, and Jim sent Pete sprawling over a stool.
Quigley's jealous passion was just as artless and free from disguise. Done had intended to send that nugget as a natural curiosity to Lucy Woodrow. He put the shade of regret the recollection provoked hastily out of his mind. Mike had heard a good deal of talk about the new girl at Mrs. Kyley's, now Jim swelled the chorus of admiration. Both young men spent that evening at the washerwoman's tent.
Why, it is as cracked as Miss Quigley's voice!" "My dear!" says mamma. The little languid boy bursts out into a jolly laugh. "What funny pictures, mamma! Action with Count de Grasse; the death of General Wolfe; a portrait of an officer, an old officer in blue, like grandpapa; Brasenose College, Oxford; what a funny name." At the idea of Brasenose College, another laugh comes from the invalid.
"Poor Quigley's cake is dough," observed one of the incumbent's friends in an undertone, standing with his hands in his pockets, and gazing through the long dark vista of the hall out of the door into the sunlight's glow, as it fell upon the few houses and the great stretch of arable land beyond.
'Heaven forbid, ma'am! 'Don't waste your prayers on me, sergeant. Maybe I deserve even that, my sins being many and various. 'And sly grog-selling is one of them. But I'll have you there yet, my good woman. Wallis turned his thumb down. 'Remember I am only a poor weak woman when that happens, sergeant. Will you have a drink before going? There's a nip left in Quigley's bottle.
The young man's style of fighting was new to most of the onlookers, and few of them appreciated it. What they liked was to see combatants stand up to each other, giving punch for punch, a system in which the strong brute had all the advantage. Adroitness in avoiding punishment was not regarded with favour; but, in spite of the derisive cries of Quigley's backers, Jim kept strictly to his methods.
During all this time Quigley's dislike for Jim was only kept within bounds by the vein of flippancy that ran through Aurora's demonstrations of preference for the younger man. The quarrel was inevitable, however, and it was precipitated by a half-drunken demonstration of affection towards Aurora on Quigley's part, which the girl resented with a savageness that betrayed an unexpected trait.
This must have been a decisive blow had Jim's face remained there to receive it, but Done ducked neatly, and the next moment his left was shot into Quigley's cheek, sending the big man staggering, and raising a purple wheal under the eye almost instantly.
The smile faded from Quigley's face. Without knowing just why he did it, he relinquished the sack. Waring turned to Donovan. "I'll take care of this, Bill. As I told you before, you can't bluff worth a damn." Waring strode to the door. At Quigley's choked exclamation of protest, the gunman whirled round. Donovan stood by the desk, a gun weaving in his hand.
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