"Oh, hang your clothes!" said Oscar, impetuously. "It isn't your clothes we invite. It's yourself."
"Still, Oscar—"
"Come, I see you think I am like Fitz Fletcher, after all. Say you think me a snob, and done with it."
"But I don't," said Harry, smiling.
"Then don't make any more ridiculous objections. Don't you think they are ridiculous, Mr. Ferguson?"
"They wouldn't be in some places," said Ferguson, "but here I think they are out of place. I feel sure you are right, and that you value Harry more than the clothes he wears."
"Well, Harry, do you surrender at discretion?" said Oscar. "You see
Ferguson is on my side."
"I suppose I shall have to," said Harry, "as long as you are not ashamed of me."
"None of that, Harry."
"I'll go."