“None the worse, perhaps, because we are aware of a common absence of perfection in each other,” replied Hamilton, whose countenance had gradually regained its calmness. “It is foolish to be angry, Louis, but I was; and now let there be an end of it—I don't mean to forsake you for all the Trevannions in Christendom.”
They had by this time reached the playground gates, and were here overtaken by Frank Digby, who had before engaged to be one of the party.
“Better late than never,” said Louis, in reply to his breathless excuses. “I had my doubts whether your pressing engagements with Maister Dunn would allow you to accompany us.”
“Why, I got rid of him pretty soon,” said Frank; “only just as I had wedged myself out of the phalanx, who should appear but Thally.”
“Who?” said Louis.
“Tharah,” repeated Frank.
“Sally Simmons, the boot-cleaner, Louis,” said Hamilton; “you are up to nothing yet.”
“She's a queer stick,” said Frank.
“What a strange description of a woman!” remarked Louis. “It is as clear as a person being a brick.”
“And so it is,” replied Frank; “only it's just the reverse.”