"Good!" said Billy, holding out his hand and the two young men clasped silently, eyeing each other with a certain mutual respect though with no great increase of liking.
"Now, this is my idea," Billy went on, and proceeded to develop it, while Falconer carefully studied the plans and made a shrewd suggestion here and there.
It was late in the morning when they parted.
"You must muzzle that Baroff girl," was Falconer's parting caution. "We must keep this thing deuced quiet, you know."
"Of course. He shan't get wind of it ahead."
"Not only that. We mustn't have talk afterwards. It would kill the girl, you know."
Billy nodded. "She would hate it, I expect."
"Hate it? My word, it would finish her—a tale of that kind going the rounds.... She could never live it down."
"Live it down? It would set her up in conversation for the rest of her life!" Billy chuckled softly. "That is, if it comes out all right—and that's the only way I can imagine its coming out."
With one hand on the door Falconer paused to stare back at him. "You don't mean she'd want to tell about it!" he ejaculated with unplumbed horror.