"I can't help blowing up," Fred went on. "I want to say, though, I know
I'm not very considerate to blow up about her to you this way. I've been
playing horse with you about her ever since freshman year, but--well,
you must have understood, Ram, I never meant anything that would really
bother you much, and I thought--well, I _really_ thought it was a good
thing, you--your--well, I mean about her, you know. I'm on, all right. I
know it's pretty serious with you." He paused.
Ramsey did not move, except that his right hand still fidgeted with the
pen upon the table.
"Oh--well--" he said.
"It's--it's kind of tough luck!" his friend contrived to say; and he
began to pace the floor again.
"Oh--well--"
"See here, ole stick-in-the-mud," Fred broke out abruptly. "After her
saying what she did-- Well, it's none o' my business, but--but--"
"Well, what?" Ramsey murmured. "I don't care what you say, if you want
to say anything."
"Well, I _got_ to say it," Fred half groaned and half blurted. "After
she said _that_--and she meant it--why, if I were in your place I'd be
darned if I'd be seen out walking with her again.
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