“You did,” said Tod.
“I did not,” said Bill.
“I tell you, you did, William Whitney.”
“Let it go; it’s word against word, and we shall never decide it. You are mistaken, Todhetley; but I am not going to ask your leave as to what I shall do, or what I shan’t.”
“You have no right to say to Miss Chalk what I heard you saying to-day.”
“I tell you, you did not hear me say anything of the sort. Put it that you did—what business is it of yours? If I chose to go in for her, to ask her to be the future Lady Whitney—though it may be many a year, I hope, before I step into my father’s place, good old man!—who has the right to say me nay?”
Tod was foaming. Dusk though it was, I could see that. They took no more account of my being present, than of Harry’s little barking dog.
“Look here, Bill Whitney. If——”
“Are you boys quarrelling?”
The interruption was Anna’s. Passing through the hall, she had heard the voices and looked in. As if glad of the excuse to get away, Bill Whitney followed her from the room. Tod went out and banged the hall-door after him.