He closed the door, and Morgan accepted the invitation.
“I believe this is the first time I have ever visited you in your room, Mr. Merriwell,” said Dade.
“I believe so.”
Morgan was pale. His training had seemed to rob him of color, if anything. He glanced at Frank, and then veiled his eyes with those dark, silky lashes. Only for a moment, however, for he looked up again with an expression of open honesty.
“Merriwell,” he said, “I know you have good reason to hate me. My greatest wonder is that you permitted me to remain in college.”
Frank wondered what Morgan was driving at.
“Do you wish to talk about that?” he asked quietly. “I fancied it might be unpleasant to you.”
“It is; but of late I have been seized by a growing desire to set myself right in your eyes. I doubt if we can ever become friends, but I do not want you to continue to think me a dirty dog. Oh, I know you must have thought that about me in the past!”
“I have,” admitted Merry, with perfect candor. “I had a right to think so.”
“Admitted; but not of late—not since——”