“And the children?”
“They are quite well. By the way, before I forget it, don't let the Judge know that I have already sent in my papers to sell out. I want him to believe that I do so now in consequence of his offer.”
“It is not likely we shall soon meet, and I may not have an opportunity of mentioning the matter.”
“You 'll come to dinner to-day, won't you?”
“No.”
“You ought, even out of gratitude on my account. It would be only commonly decent to thank him.”
“I could n't.”
“Couldn't what? Couldn't come, or couldn't thank him?”
“Could n't do either. You don't know, Dudley, that whenever our intercourse rises above the common passing courtesies of mere acquaintanceship, it is certain to end in a quarrel. We must never condemn or approve. We must never venture upon an opinion, lest it lead to a discussion, for discussion means a fight.”
“Pleasant, certainly,—pleasant and amiable too!”