It was; Harrow, holding tightly to the soft little hand half hidden by the folds of her gown, cast a sneaking look behind him, and encountered the fixed and furious glare of his closest friend, who had pinched him.
“Pig!” hissed Lethbridge, “do I sit next or not?”
“I—I can’t; I’ll explain——”
“Do I?”
“You don’t understand——”
“I understand you!”
“No, you don’t. Lissa and I——”
“Lissa!”
“Ya—as! We’re talking very cleverly; I am, too. Wha’d’you wan’ to butt in for?” with sudden venom.
“Butt in! Do you think I want to sit here and look at tha’ damfool play! Fix it or I’ll run about biting!”