“Never did,” answered the other quickly. “Anyway, not until you showed that you disliked me for some reason. But no matter how I felt toward you, Harven, I wouldn’t do a dirty trick like that.”
They had reached the steps, and Stuart paused. “Wait a second,” he said. “I’d like to get this right. It looks as if I’d made an awful fool of myself. I never had anything against you, Le Gette; I mean until that happened. You always looked sort of—of sneery, and—well, I thought you didn’t like me. Then, that night, you had a look— Maybe I imagined it——”
“I guess I looked at you the way you looked at me,” replied Le Gette gruffly. “You always seemed to think I was a lump of dirt! I don’t say that I was awfully cut-up about that blackballing, except that I’ve always sort of liked Neil Orr, for it got your goat for fair. But I didn’t do it, and I didn’t like you thinking I did. That got me peeved and I went on letting you think so.”
“Well,” said Stuart helplessly, “it’s mighty funny!”
“Oh, if you don’t believe me!”
“I don’t mean that! I mean the whole thing’s funny; me thinking you had it in for me and—and blaming you for the blackballing. I—I’m sorry, Le Gette. Honest, I am!”
“Well, I wanted you to know the truth,” muttered the other.
“I’m glad you told me. I guess I owe you an apology.”
“Oh, I don’t believe so. Can’t blame you for being peeved, the way things stood. Guess I ought to have explained at the time, only I was too mad.”