"No one will insult him. There will be no scandal," I replied, "and it will do good."
"But what will people say?" cried Willie.
"No one ever knows what people will say," I retorted, "and people always speak best of those who don't care a damn what they do say."
"Oh, Frank, I could not go to a place like the Savoy where I am well known," objected Oscar.
"All right," I agreed, "you shall go where you like. All London is before us. I must have a talk with you, and it will do you good to get out into the air, and sun yourself and feel the wind in your face. Come, there's a hansom at the door."
It was not long before I had conquered his objections and Willie's absurdities and taken him with me. Scarcely had we left the house when his spirits began to lift, and he rippled into laughter.
"Really, Frank, it is strange, but I do not feel frightened and depressed any more, and the people don't boo and hiss at me. Is it not dreadful the way they insult the fallen?"
"We are not going to talk about it," I said; "we are going to talk of victories and not of defeats."
"Ah, Frank, there will be no more victories for me."
"Nonsense," I cried; "now where are we going?"