“I do not require anything,” said the youth coldly. “Yes, look here. There is a little desk on the table in my room; bring me that.”
“Hadn’t you better give in, and make the best of things?” said Frank, as soon as they were alone.
“Had you not better leave me to myself, Frank Gowan?” said Andrew coldly. “We are no longer friends, but enemies.”
“No, we can’t be that,” cried Frank. “Come; once more, shake hands.”
Andrew looked at him for a few moments fixedly, and then said slowly:
“Come, that’s better.”
“On the day when your King George is humbled to the dust, and you are, with all here, a helpless prisoner. I’ll shake hands and forgive you then.”
“Not till then?” cried Frank, flushing.
“Not till then.”
“Which means that we are never to be friends again, Drew. Nonsense! You are still angry. Captain Murray is right.”