He fell back in his chair for he was unable to
stand. "Well, go back where you came from. There's nothing here for
you. Tout passe, tout lasse, tout casse.... Here--what's your name?"
he said brutally to his companion. "Go and get me another mug."
But the young woman, who had been gaping at the scene, suddenly
recovered herself. She ran round the table and flung her arms about
his neck. "He's my man!" she shrieked. "You can't have him." And she
sputtered obscenities.
Madeleine reached over, tore her from Masters, dragged her across
the table, whirled her about, and flung her to the floor. The
neighborhood shrieked its delight. The rest of the room took no
notice of them. The drunken sailors were still singing and many took
up the refrain.
"No," said Madeleine. "He's mine and I'll have him."
"Now I know you are not Madeleine," cried Masters furiously, and
trying to rise again. "She never was your sort, you damned whore, to
fight over a man in a groggery. She was a lady--"
"She was also a woman," said Madeleine coolly. "And never more so
than now. You are coming with me."
"I'll see you in hell first."
"Well, I'll go there with you if you like. But you'll come home with
me first."
"Even if you were she, I've no use for you, I'd forgotten your
existence.
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