“I make it a point even in court,” said Overton, “not to dispute the obvious.”
It struck Vickers that there was no use in resenting insults to a past with which he was so little connected that he was in complete ignorance of its dark places. Hoping to throw a little light upon the subject he began:
“Perhaps you will tell which incident or incidents of my past you——”
Overton cut him short with a smile. “No,” he said, “I won’t. In the first place I don’t mean to walk so far, and in the second it wouldn’t be pertinent. The point is that you are a reformed character. In my experience there is nothing so dangerous to the young. Their admiration for the superb spectacle of Satan trodden underfoot is too apt to include an admiration of Satan himself. In short, my dear sir, I don’t think you have any ground for quarreling with me because I think you a dangerous fellow for young girls.”
“It is not exactly a compliment,” said Vickers.
“Either of those young sparks who have just gone would have given ten years of his life for such an accusation.” Both men laughed at the incontestable truth of this assertion, but Vickers felt it necessary to say:
“But I am a good deal older than they are.”
“And a good many other things as well.” They had reached the impressive gate-post, and Overton stopped. “Suppose you come and dine with me to-morrow night,” and he added, in exactly the same tone, “Louisa is dining with a friend.”
Vickers looked at him a moment and then exclaimed candidly: “Now I wonder why in thunder you asked me to dinner.”
Overton smiled. “Let me tell you,” he answered. “I must confess I was an eavesdropper this evening. Sitting in the house I could hear your voice, and I amused myself trying to guess who you could be that I could not place in Hilltop. I could not even guess your family. It was principally to satisfy my curiosity that I came out.”