“I don’t want her,” he said, with fierce resentment.
“Then you needn’t have her,” said Albert. “What do you go for, boy?”
But it wasn’t as simple as all that. Joe made no remark.
“She’s a smart-looking girl. What’s wrong with her, my boy? I should have thought you were a lucky chap, myself.”
“I don’t want ’er,” Joe barked, with ferocity and resentment.
“Then tell her so and have done,” said Albert. He waited awhile. There was no response. “Why don’t you?” he added.
“Because I don’t,” confessed Joe, sulkily.
Albert pondered—rubbed his head.
“You’re too soft-hearted, that’s where it is, boy. You want your mettle dipping in cold water, to temper it. You’re too soft-hearted—”
He laid his arm affectionately across the shoulders of the younger man. Joe seemed to yield a little towards him.