He pulled himself slowly to his feet, but
did not offer to rush.
"Now will you fight?" Tudor said grimly.
Sheldon laughed, and for the first time with true spontaneity. The
intrinsic ridiculousness of the situation was too much for his sense of
humour. He made as if to repeat the blow, but Tudor, white of face, with
arms hanging resistlessly at his sides, offered no defence.
"I don't mean a fight with fists," he said slowly. "I mean to a finish,
to the death. You're a good shot with revolver and rifle. So am I.
That's the way we'll settle it."
"You have gone clean mad. You are a lunatic."
"No, I'm not," Tudor retorted. "I'm a man in love. And once again I ask
you to go outside and settle it, with any weapons you choose."
Sheldon regarded him for the first time with genuine seriousness,
wondering what strange maggots could be gnawing in his brain to drive him
to such unusual conduct.
"But men don't act this way in real life," Sheldon remarked.
"You'll find I'm pretty real before you're done with me. I'm going to
kill you to-day."
"Bosh and nonsense, man." This time Sheldon had lost his temper over the
superficial aspects of the situation. "Bosh and nonsense, that's all it
is. Men don't fight duels in the twentieth century.
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