"It makes no difference what his real name is, you concealed his identity. You deliberately deceived me. Not that I care," she added bitterly. "I'm thinking of your aunt and the reputation of her home."
"How could I help it if you misunderstood me?" demanded Bill. "I said he was an artist, didn't I? Well, he is. He's next to the top in his line, and it won't be long before he takes first place. If you ever saw him fight you'd understand what art is."
"You said he was a sculptor."
"Well, he is, too, in a way. That may be a bit of artistic license, but he's a sculptor. I've seen him take a man, go to work on him, carve him up and change him so that you couldn't identify him with anything short of finger prints. He's a sculptor of human beings. He works on heads and busts; I said he did, didn't I? And I said he was an impressionist and a realist rolled into one. And he is. A man can do impressionistic work with a pair of six-ounce gloves just as well as he can with a paint brush or a chisel. And you yourself suggested that his work must have strength, and I agreed with you."
Bill rather hoped that this would settle it; not that he banked heavily on the soundness of his defense, but rather because he felt that it was technically adroit. Mary simply curled a lip and regarded him with fresh scorn.
"That's what I call a very cowardly explanation," she said. "You know as well as I do that it's worthless. It doesn't explain the fact that you let me deceive myself and made me the instrument for deceiving your aunt. I'd have more respect for you if you came out boldly and admitted what you've done."
Bill was beginning to glare.
"If you think I'm going to throw down my friends in order to get into society, then I'll stay out."
"You'd better change your friends," she advised. "So long as you have friends who are an offense to decent people——"
"Stop right there!" warned Bill. "I pick my own friends and I stick by 'em. The Kid has been a good friend of mine and I've tried to be a good friend of his. He's helped me out of more than one hole. And I've helped him. I backed him in his first big fight and got him started on the uproad. I've backed him more than once and I'll back him again, if he asks me to. Why can't you be reasonable about this? Suppose he is a fighter. He's a friend of mine, just the same. And what's a little scrap now and then between friends?"