"Still, they sent him to a good school and then to the 'Varsity. They didn't do very badly by him."
"The aunt died before he went to Cambridge, and his uncle became much more human. For one thing he was awfully pleased because Mr. Ballinger was so quiet and industrious. He didn't waste his time playing cricket and getting blues and things, and so he got a splendid degree--a something first! Are you listening, Tony?"
"I am, most attentively, and it strikes me that if that young man had spent a little more of his time playing games, he might not have got into the particular kind of mischief he did get into--mischief that is apt to make things very uncomfortable later on."
All the time she was talking Lallie had been playing very softly in subdued accompaniment to her remarks. Now she suddenly ceased, and sitting up very straight stared hard at Tony, who still lounged against the other end of the piano devouring her with his eyes.
"What do you mean, Tony?"
"I mean, Lallie, that a young man is apt to pay dearly for a sentimental friendship with a lady of 'highly strung' temperament."
"Where in the world did you hear anything about it?"
"Now where do you think?"
"You don't mean to say that he has actually been to see you and told you himself?"
"That is precisely what I do mean; and having heard the story, I feel it my duty to ask you not to be too hard on the fellow--not to let it influence your decision one way or other; especially now that you have told me of his boyhood, would I beg you to judge leniently."