"For you to fight with Harry, and one of you kill the other? No, I don't think it would."
"I didn't say anything about fighting with Harry," resumed Charley, a little sulkily. "No, I should not like that. But as to anything else, I just tell you, Celia, that if some day I am not to be found, you will know I am gone to St. Germains to fight for the King—the King!" And Charley drew himself up at least two inches as he said the last words.
"Hush, Charley, do!"
"I won't hush! And I really mean it!"
"Charley, I shall have to tell Father, if you talk any more nonsense like that!" said Celia, really alarmed.
"Celia, do you know what it is to feel downright wicked?" asked Charley, in a different tone.
"Yes—no—not as you mean, I fancy."
"No, I don't think you do. I wish you did."
"Charley!"
"Well, I mean, I wish I didn't! Father talks of hanging things; I feel sometimes as if I could hang everything."