“Oh, it was you,” said North huskily, as he gazed wildly at his friend, his piteous eyes seeming to ask what he thought of his acts.
“Why, North, old fellow, what is the matter? You can trust me.”
“Matter?” cried North excitedly—“matter? No, no, nothing is the matter. A little out of order. Don’t take any notice of what I say.”
“But I must take notice. Do you suppose I can see my oldest and best friend go on in this mad way?”
“No, no; don’t say that,” cried North, catching him fiercely by the wrist; “not ‘mad way.’ A little eccentric: that’s all. Don’t take any notice.”
“But—”
“No, no; don’t take any notice. Yes, I was upset about her. It was a shock.”
“I knew it was that,” cried Salis; “but, North, my dear fellow, you must master it: we are old friends. I will keep nothing from you. Let us be mutually helpful. Is it nothing to us to have such a horror as this in our midst?”
“It is terrible for you,” said North quietly. “The foolish girl!”
“Hah!” ejaculated Salis, beaming upon him; “that sounds like you.”