The Rivet in Grandfather’s Neck

I think you are a jackass-fool, Miss Stapylton said, crisply, and a fortune-hunter, and a sot, and a travesty, and a whole heap of other things I haven’t, as yet had time to look up in the dictionary. And I think–I think you call yourself an English gentleman? Well, all I have to say is God pity England if her gentlemen are of your stamp! There isn’t a costermonger in all Whitechapel who would dare talk to me as you’ve done! I would like to snatch you bald-headed, I would like to kill you–And do you think, now, if you were the very last man left in all the world that I would–No, don’t you try to answer me, for I don’t wish to hear a single word you have to say. Oh, oh! how dare you!