"With the same object I am going to-day." This was the truth. George was going to give me an hour before Margery came.
"Perhaps we're wronging Boy," said Jill.
"Thank you, dear," said I.
"You can't wrong outlaws," said Berry. "Never mind. Some day we shall know the ter-ruth."
"I believe you're jealous," said I. "Just because you can't find an artist sufficiently dauntless to reproduce your brutal physiognomy—"
"He means to be rude," Berry explained.
I walked to the door.
"Don't forget our lunch, old chap," said my sister.
"You've taken away my appetite," said I.
"Oh, Boy, you know we love you."