‘Home,’ said Mr Forest, ‘you go to No. 3.’
That was our room.
‘Home,’ I said, having lingered on the stairs until he appeared, ‘you don’t bear me a grudge, do you?’
‘It was my fault,’ said Home. ‘I had no right to pitch into you. Only you’re such a cool beggar! But, by Jove! I didn’t think Forest would have been so unfair. If you forgive me, I’ll forgive you.’
‘If I hadn’t stood up to you, I couldn’t,’ I returned. ‘I knew I hadn’t a chance. Besides, I hadn’t any breakfast.’
‘I was a brute,’ said Home.
‘Oh, I don’t mind for myself; but there’s Osborne! I wonder you could hit him.’
‘He shouldn’t have jawed me,’ said Home.
‘But you did first.’
We had reached the door of the room which had been Home’s and was now to be mine, and went in together.