As indeed they very well could!
In a minute Williard was in the music-room.
"I really do not know that I ought to shake hands with you, Dick," began Betty, tossing her hat on the piano. "You have deceived me for years."
"Deceived you! What do you mean?" mightily disturbed.
"Wait a moment." She brought forth a paper. "Sit down in front of me. This is going to be a court of inquiry, and your sins shall be passed in review." He obeyed meekly. "Now listen," the girl went on, mischief in her eyes; "this paper says horrid things about you. It claims that you have given riotous dinners to actresses and comic-opera singers. I classify them because I do not think comic-opera singers are actresses."
"Rot!" said Williard, crossing his legs and eying with pleasure the contours of her face. "Jolly rot!"
"You mustn't say 'jolly' in this country; it's English, and they'll be accusing you of it."
"Well, bally rot; how will that go?"
"That isn't very pretty, but it will pass. Now, to proceed. They say that your private life is profligate."
"Oh, come now, Betty!" laughing diffidently.