"No, but I know you do think so."
"I wasn't aware I'd expressed any opinion."
"No—but—well—hang it all—you think I am a coward for not making a clean breast of the whole thing!" cried Stephen, now thoroughly enraged.
"What do you think yourself?" O'Malley suddenly inquired with disconcerting directness.
"Oh, I know I've been rotten," admitted the boy. "Still, even now—" He paused.
"You mean that even now it isn't too late?" put in the truckman, his face lighting to a smile.
"N—o; that wasn't exactly what I was going to say," began the lad, resuming his argumentative tone. "What I mean is that—"
A swift frown replaced the elder man's smile.
"Here we are at the garage," he broke in. "They will do whatever you want them to."
He seemed in a hurry and as Stephen could find no excuse for lingering he climbed reluctantly out of the truck and stood balancing himself on the curb that edged the sidewalk.