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his character? Did I intend to insult him? Was I a fool? Was my maternal
parent aware, in a word, of my absence from the domiciliary residence?
He would put this latter question to me as to a man of veracity, and
he would bind himself to abide by my reply. Once more he would demand
explicitly if my mother knew that I was out. My confusion, he said,
betrayed me, and he would be willing to bet the Devil his head that she
did not.
Mr. Dammit did not pause for my rejoinder. Turning upon his heel, he
left my presence with undignified precipitation. It was well for him
that he did so. My feelings had been wounded. Even my anger had been
aroused. For once I would have taken him up upon his insulting wager. I
would have won for the Arch-Enemy Mr. Dammit's little head--for the fact
is, my mamma was very well aware of my merely temporary absence from
home.
But Khoda shefa midêhed--Heaven gives relief--as the Mussulmans say when
you tread upon their toes. It was in pursuance of my duty that I had
been insulted, and I bore the insult like a man. It now seemed to me,
however, that I had done all that could be required of me, in the case
of this miserable individual, and I resolved to trouble him no longer
with my counsel, but to leave him to his conscience and himself. But
although I forebore to intrude with my advice, I could not bring myself
to give up his society altogether. I even went so far as to humor some
of his less reprehensible propensities; and there were times when I
found myself lauding his wicked jokes, as epicures do mustard, with
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