"Nobody can make me responsible, except myself. It's what they call a debt of honour, Flossie. Those debts are not always down in black and white."
"Why can't you speak plain? I really can't think what you mean by that."
"Can't you? I'll endeavour to explain. A debt of honour, Beaver dear, is a debt that's got to be paid whoever else goes unpaid."
"A fine lot of honour about that," said she.
Was it possible to make the Beaver understand? He, gave her a slight outline of the situation; and he really could not complain of any fault in the Beaver's intelligence. For, by dint of a masterly cross examination, she possessed herself of all the details, even of those which he most desired to keep from her. After their last great explanation there had been more than a tacit agreement between them that the name of Lucia Harden was never to come up again in any future discussion; and that name he would not give. She, however, readily inferred it from his silence.
"You needn't tell me the lady's name," said she.
"I certainly needn't. The name has nothing whatever to do with it.'"
"Oh, hasn't it? You'll not make me believe that you'd 'ave taken it up this way for any one but her."
"Whether I would or wouldn't doesn't affect the point of honour."
"I don't see where it comes in there."