“It’s a queer time to joke,” said he, with a laugh that cut me through.
“It’s no joke, Tempest. You don’t know what he’s done for you.”
“Don’t I? I fancy I do.”
“About the bills,” said I, faltering, “you know.”
“Ah! don’t come here to tell me about that.”
“It was all of his own accord he paid them.”
“He what?” shouted Tempest, springing from his chair and facing round.
“Paid them, you know; at least, I paid them for him.”
“You? Paid?” and he caught me by the collar and shook me like a puppy.
“You said you knew,” gasped I.