“All!” exclaimed Wentworth. “And why shouldn’t I give them away? They were mine, weren’t they? Why, you gave yours away too, didn’t you?”
“To be sure,” replied Harrington, with a bothered air, adding tranquilly, “Emily gave them to me, and I gave them to Bagasse.”
“Well,” retorted Wentworth, “Muriel gave them to me and I gave them to Bagasse also. What of it?”
Harrington, who could not see into this matter at all, was silent, and stroked his beard with his hand, a habit of his when he was very much puzzled.
“No matter—it’s a trifle,” he said lightly, after a pause. “Only, Richard, to be very plain with you—I hope you’ll not think me intrusive—well, I thought it was—odd—that you should have given away the flowers Muriel gave you.”
He spoke these words with marked, but delicate significance—stammering and hesitating a little in his speech, which was unusual with him. It was the first allusion he had ever made to Wentworth’s supposed love for Miss Eastman. Loving her himself, it was not made without a pang. If Wentworth had been cool, he could not but have understood it. As it was, it only put him in a rage.
“Well, if I ever heard the like of this!” he sputtered. “To be very plain with me—what in thunder—blast it all, Harrington, what are you driving at? Why, I was struck all of a heap at the oddity of your giving away Emily’s nosegay, and here you turn upon me and tell me it’s odd—yes, odd, that I should give away Muriel’s! What’s the difference, I’d like to know? Now, just tell me!”
Harrington was silent, and again stroked his beard, wondering what sort of cross-purposes they were playing at. Wentworth stood for a moment with flushed face and passionate eyes, angry with Harrington for the first time in his life, and then walked away in great exasperation.
Perplexed and amazed at this state of affairs, and grieved to think he had, however unwittingly, angered his friend, Harrington stood looking after him, irresolute whether to follow and attempt an explanation now, or wait till his fume was over. Presently, he resolved to wait, and sadly musing, began to pace to and fro at the upper end of the long room.
On his way down to the fencing-ground, Wentworth was met by Witherlee, who had been watching the conference, and though he could not catch a word, knew well enough by Wentworth’s excited tones then, and by his flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes now, that there had been some difference between the two.