"It's my place to be a bit rowdy," replied the superior sex. "It's part of a man's education. And I don't try to look as if butter would n't melt in my mouth. You're just the reverse; you're hypocrites. 'Woe unto you hypocrites!' the Bible says. But it's troubling me a good deal to think what your mothers'll feel, now that you've come out in your true colours."
"But you wouldn't be mean enough to tell?" interrupted one of the sweet voices.
"I always thought you were too honourable to do such a thing, Harry," remarked the other.
"Well, now you find your mistake. But this is not a question of honour; it's a question of duty."
"O, you're mighty fine with your duty! You're a mean wretch. There!"
"I'll be a meaner wretch before another hour's over. Go on, Jerry; let's get it past and done with."
"But, Harry—I say, Harry—don't tell. I'll never forgive you if you do."
"Duty, Mabel, duty."
"What good will it do you to tell?" pleaded the other voice.
"Duty, Annie, duty. On you go, Jerry, and let's get home. This is painful to a cove of my temperament."