"Yes! she is pretty; and she was good as she is pretty until she got tangled up with you."
Harry sprang up and menaced me.
"What do you mean, you,—you?—— What are you driving at? What's your game?"
"Oh! give over this rotten hypocrisy," I shouted, pushing him back. "Hit you on the raw, did it?"
He drew himself up.
"No! it didn't. But I have had more than enough of your impertinences. I would box your ears for the unlicked pup you are, if I could do it without soiling my palms."
I smiled.
"Those days are gone, Harry,—and you know it, too. Let us cut this evasion and tom-foolery. You have got that poor girl into a scrape. What are you going to do about getting her out of it?"
"I have got her into trouble? How do you know I have? Her word for it, I suppose? A fine state of affairs it has come to, when any girl who gets into trouble with her clod-hopper sweetheart, has simply to accuse some one in a higher station than she, to have all her troubles ended."
He flicked some dust from his coat-sleeve. "'Gad,—we fellows would never be out of the soup."