"Have a chair, I say," Harold indicated one with a gesture. Stover sat down. The sangfroid of this young fellow discomfited him.
"I want to know what you mean?" Stover asked when he had recovered himself.
"Mean about what?" Harold asked coolly.
"By those ridiculous charges you made against me."
"Have you read the complaint?"
"Yes, I have."
"Then you know all about it. I don't need to tell you anything."
"It's preposterous. Young man, you're making a fool of yourself. You can't prove anything, and in the end you will be laughed at."
"Stover, I can prove all I have charged. At any rate the jury will decide."
"What proof have you?"