"That's asking."
Roland had at last succeeded in arousing Brewster's curiosity, and he was wise enough to refrain from satisfying it at once. If he were to tell him that a girl down town had wanted to go for a walk with him, Brewster would have laughed and probably thought no more about it. He would have to fan his interest till Brewster's imagination had had time to play upon the idea.
"She's very pretty," Roland said, "and she asked me who you were. She was awfully keen to meet you, but I told her that it was no good and that you wouldn't care for that sort of thing. She was very disappointed."
"Yes, but who is she?"
"I'm not going to tell you that. Why should I give her away?"
"Oh, but do tell me."
Roland was firm.
"No; I'm jolly well not going to. It's her secret. You don't want to meet her, do you?"
"No," Brewster grudgingly admitted; "but I'd like to know."
"I daresay you would, but I'm not going to give away a confidence. Suppose you told me that you were keen on a girl and that you'd heard she wouldn't have anything to do with anyone, you wouldn't like me to go and tell her who you were, would you?"