“You will write and say you’ve told lies, and are sorry for it.”
“I address whom I please and write what I please.”
Vane interposed.
“Really, Neston—you, Gerald, I mean—don’t make a row here. Can’t you get him away, Tommy?”
Gerald gave Tommy a warning look, and poor Tommy shook his head mournfully.
George felt the necessity of avoiding a scene. He began to move quietly away. Gerald stood full in his path.
“You don’t go till you’ve answered. Will you do what I tell you?”
“Really, Gerald,” George began, still clinging to peace.
“Yes or no?”
“No,” said George, with a smile and a shrug.