"Damn!" said Tommy, straightening involuntarily.
"That's better," said Monck. "That'll do you good. Don't curl up again! You're getting disgracefully round-shouldered. Like to have a bout with the gloves?"
There was not a shade of ill-feeling in his voice. Tommy turned round upon him with a smile as involuntary as his exclamation had been.
"What a brute you are, Monck! You have such a beastly trick of putting a fellow in the wrong."
"You are in the wrong," asserted Monck. "I want to get you out of it if I can. What's the grievance? What have I done?"
Tommy hesitated for a moment, then finally reached up and gripped the hand upon his shoulder. "Monck! I say, Monck!" he said boyishly. "I feel such a cur to say it. But—but—" he broke off abruptly. "I'm damned if I can say it!" he decided dejectedly.
Monck's fingers suddenly twisted and closed upon his. "What a funny little ass you are, Tommy!" he said.
Tommy brightened a little. "It's infernally difficult—taking you to task," he explained blushing a still fierier red. "You'll never speak to me again after this."
Monck laughed. "Yes, I shall. I shall respect you for it. Get on with it, man! What's the trouble?"
With immense effort Tommy made reply. "Well, it's pretty beastly to have to ask any fellow what his intentions are with regard to his sister, but you pretty nearly told me yours."