Mortimer put his arm around Dunk and whispered in his ear.
“You don’t want to go,” he insisted.
“Yes, he does,” said Andy, firmly.
For a moment he and the other youth faced each other. It was a struggle of wills for the mastery of a character, and Andy won—at least the first “round.”
“I’m going with my friend,” said Dunk firmly, and despite further protests he went out with his arm over Andy’s shoulder. There were cries and appeals to remain, but Dunk heeded them not.
“I’m going to quit,” he announced. “Had enough fun for to-night.”
Out in the clear, cool air Andy breathed free again.
“Shall I get a cab?” he asked. “There must be one somewhere around.”
“Certainly not,” answered Dunk. “I—I can walk, I guess.”
They reached Wright Hall, neither speaking much on the way. Andy was glad—and sorry. Sorry that Dunk had allowed his resolution to be broken, but glad that he had been able to stop his friend in time.