"However, that's what I'm going to do, as soon as I reach that door— take your hand off, man, my blood's up, by George! Can't you see my blood's up? It's a-boiling, that's what it's doing! So all you want is to ask me not to tell that secret?"
"Not exactly all."
"Well, well—quick! What else?"
"To see that you don't tell it."
"How do you mean to 'see' that I don't tell it?"
"You will listen to reason, Bob," said Abbott persuasively.
"No, I won't!" cried Robert. "Not me! No, sir! I'm going to tell this minute."
"You shall not!" said Abbott, in a lower and more compelling tone. His manner was so absolute, that Robert Clinton, who had forced his way almost to the porch-steps, was slightly moved.
"See here, Abbott—say! Fran knows all about it, and you pretend to think a good deal of her. Well, it's to her interests for the whole affair to be laid open to the world."
"I think so much of Fran," was the low and earnest rejoinder, "that if I were better fixed, I'd ask her to marry me without a moment's delay. And I think enough of her, not to ask her to marry me, until I have a good position. Now it was Fran who asked me to see that you didn't betray the secret. And I think so much of her, that I'm going to see that you don't!"