“Pish! Frank Gowan, you are a poltroon.”
“Perhaps so; but look here, Andrew Forbes, you’ve often made me want to hit you when you’ve been so bounceable and patronising. Now, we were going to see your friend to-night—”
“We are going to see my friend to-night, sir. Even if gentlemen have an affair, they keep their words.”
“If they can, and are fit to show themselves. I’m not going to that place with you this evening, though I had got leave to go out. You can go afterwards if you like; but if you’ll come anywhere you like, where we shan’t be stopped, I’ll try and show you, big as you are, that I’m not a coward.”
“Very well. I dare say we can find a place. But your sword is shorter than mine. You must wear my other one.”
“Rubbish! I’m not going to fight with swords!” cried Frank.
“What! you mean pistols?”
“I mean fists.”
In Honour’s Cause.
“Pah! like schoolboys or people in the mob.”