The man I cared for, you low dog. Used my house--came here
because it was dull at the Club--and took my wife? I don't know why I
don't kill you. I've the right. But I won't. You shall pay for it, my fine
fellow--you are going to pay--now.
[BETTY _brings a pen and an inkstand; she places them on the
table;_ HECTOR _seizes them and pushes them in front of_ WALTER.
BETTY _slinks to the other side of the room, and stands by the
sofa._
HECTOR. [_To_ WALTER.] Now you write. You hear? You write what I dictate.
Word for word. What's the old brute's name?
WALTER. Whose?
HECTOR. Whose! Her father, the sealing-wax man, old Gillingham?
WALTER. [_Staring._] Gillingham?
HECTOR. Gillingham. Yes. What is it?
WALTER. You want me to write to him?
HECTOR. [_Nodding._] To him. Who else? A confession? I've had that. His
name?
WALTER. [_Dropping the pen and half rising._] I won't--
HECTOR. [_Springing upon him in a mad fury, and forcing him back into the
chair._] You won't, you dog! You dare say that--to me! By Heaven, you
will! You'll lick the dust off this floor, if I tell you! You'll go on
your hands and knees, and crawl! Sit down, you! Sit down and take up your
filthy pen. So. [_Thoroughly cowed,_ WALTER _has taken up the pen again._]
And now--his name. Don't make me ask you again, I tell you, don't. What is
it?
WALTER. Richard.
HECTOR. Very well, Richard. So write that down. To Richard Gillingham. I
have to-day proposed to your daughter, and she has accepted me.
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