“Old Hosie?” He shrugged his shoulders. “Hosie’s an old fool!”
“He said that the trouble with you was that you had not been thrashed enough as a boy. And he was right, too!”
She turned quickly to the door, but he stepped before her.
“Don’t get mad because of a little truth. Remember, I want to help you.”
“I think,” said she, “that we’re better suited to fight each other than to help each other. I’m not so sure I want your help.”
“I’m not so sure you can avoid taking it,” he retorted. “This isn’t your father’s case alone. It’s the city’s case, too, and I’ve got a right to mix in. Now do you want me?”
She looked at him a moment.
“I’ll think it over. For the present, good afternoon.”
He hesitated, then held out his hand. She hesitated, then took it. After which, he opened the door for her and bowed her out.