Hugh colored. “Well, there it is, eh?”
“Most breaks your heart, doesn’t it?” continued Bert with suspicious sympathy.
“Oh, well, now, old chap, of course a fellow’s disappointed, and all that, but——”
Then Bert let loose. I’m not going to try to say what he did, partly because it was all dreadfully incoherent and partly because he used expressions and called names that barely escaped being in shocking bad taste. One of the nicest things he called Hugh was a “dunder-headed ass”! And Hugh took it all quite good-naturedly and very calmly, even seating himself as though in order to listen more attentively. And when, at last, Bert petered out for lack of breath or language, Hugh only grinned at him!
“You can’t prove anything you’ve said,” he remarked finally, just when Bert showed a disposition to go on again. “And, anyway——”
“I don’t have to prove it; I know it!” bellowed the other. “I’m not a complete fool!” He glared at Hugh a space longer and then subsided in the Morris chair. “What—what did you do it for, Hugh?” he asked almost pathetically.
Hugh blustered weakly. “I haven’t said I’d done anything, have I? That’s your story. If you don’t believe me when I tell you that—that——”
“Well, go on,” said Bert sarcastically.
But Hugh didn’t. “Anyway, it’s done and that’s all there is to it. What’s the good of cutting up rough?”
“Hugh, you’re an ass.”