‘But Mr Forest is a clergyman.’
‘And God was the God of Abraham before ever there was a clergyman to take his name in vain,’ I cried; for I was half mad with the man who had thus wounded my Charley. ‘I am content with you, Charley. You are my best and only friend. That is all nonsense about attacking Forest. What could you have done, you know? Don’t talk such rubbish.’
‘I might have taken my share with you,’ said Charley, and again buried his face in his hands.
‘Come, Charley,’ I said, and at the moment a fresh wave of manhood swept through my soul; ‘you and I will take our share together a hundred times yet. I have done my part now; yours will come next.’
‘But to think of not sharing your disgrace, Wilfrid!’
‘Disgrace!’ I said, drawing myself up, ‘where was that?’
‘You’ve been beaten,’ he said.
‘Every stripe was a badge of honour,’ I said, ‘for I neither deserved it nor cried out against it. I feel no disgrace.’
‘Well, I’ve missed the honour,’ said Charley; ‘but that’s nothing, so you have it. But not to share your disgrace would have been mean. And it’s all one; for I thought it was disgrace, and I did not share it. I am a coward for ever, Wilfrid.’
‘Nonsense! He never gave you a chance. I never thought of striking back: how should you?’