"There's a true Scot!" laughed Staffer. "You're a stubborn, unemotional race. I wouldn't like to fall into your hands if I'd wronged your friends."
"The Scots are just: they repay both injuries and favors."
Then, by general consent, they talked about something else; and after a time the others went out, and Whitney and Elsie were left alone. He suspected that she had meant this to happen, but he was surprised by her first question.
"Have you a bad memory?"
"I like to think that it's as good as my neighbor's."
"Then it's strange you lighted a cigarette with a match from your own box after asking Mr. Williamson for his."
"Well, by jove!" Whitney exclaimed. "Do you think he noticed it?"
Elsie's eyes twinkled.
"No; he had his back toward you when you began the next cigarette. But why did you ask for a match when you had some?"
Whitney looked at her frankly.