“You’re not going to stay for supper?”
“No. I’m going back with the team on the six o’clock train—hour exam on Monday. My brother’s waiting for me outside; I want to see him for a while before we start. I hope to come up here some time again—hope I’ll see you.”
“Thanks. I hope so. Good-by.”
The words were all right, but Westby spoke them mechanically. It had flashed upon him that Lawrence would now learn from his brother the charge that he had so unjustly and hotly made. And of a sudden he wished he could prevent that. He would have been glad to go to Irving and retract it all and apologize; anything to keep Lawrence from hearing of it.
Why had he been so slow in dressing—why hadn’t he hurried on his clothes and gone out ahead of Lawrence and made it all right with Irving!
With a wild thought that it might not yet be too late, he flung on his coat and rushed from the building—only to see Irving and Lawrence walking together across the football field.