This was undeniable, and Fred felt that he had scored a point.
Betty was reduced to the defensive.
“I wouldn’t want to be,” she rejoined rather feebly.
Fred cast a proud look around.
“Sour grapes!” he ejaculated.
Then, elated by his success, he sought rather imprudently to follow it up.
“As for me,” he declared, “I wouldn’t care how hard I was hit. I’d only laugh.”
Betty saw an opening.
“You wouldn’t dare let me throw one at you,” she challenged, her eyes dancing.
Fred went into pretended convulsions.