"Betty!" I said, quite mortified to hear her speak so in front of my old friend.
"And," she continued, looking Larry squarely in the face, "if Mr. Friday allows his friend to endorse a note for him, I don't think he is much of a friend."
"I am sorry your wife feels that way about it," said Larry. "I guess I'm coming between you two, old man. Here's the note—you better take it back, for I think too much of you to do anything that would affect your happiness. . . . Although I must say that I think Mrs. Black is unjust to you and me."
"You put that note right back in your pocket!" I commanded. "Betty," I said sharply, "this is a matter which I can handle without any help. Thank you!"
"Dawson," said Betty, holding out her hand to me, "I was vexed."
"Come, Larry, old man," I said, "I've known you too many years to allow my judgment of you to be swayed."
Larry held out his hand to Betty, who, however, turned coldly away and left the room.
"If you don't mind, old man," said Larry, "I'll not stay with you to-night, and if you want that note back—" his hand went toward his pocket.
"No! If the time comes that I can't trust you, I'll tell you so to your face!"
"You're a real pal!" exclaimed Larry, with feeling eyes.