"Aha!" says I. "So you got it too, did you?"

"McCabe," says he, hoarse and husky, "I--I've done a dreadful thing!"

"Why, Dudley!" says I. "I can't believe it."

"But I have," says he, clawin' me on the shoulder. "Oh, I--I've
disgraced myself!"

"How?" says I. "Called some German composer out of his right name, or
what?"

"No, no!" says he. "I--I can't tell you."

"Eh?" says I, starin' puzzled. "Well, you'd better."

"True, I'm your guest," says he. "But--but I forgot myself."

"Ah, cheer up," says I. "Veronica's a good sport. She wouldn't mind if
you let slip a cussword."

"Oh, you don't understand," says Dudley, wringin' his hands. "Really, I
have done something awful!"

"Come, come!" says I. "Let's have it, then."

"Believe me," says he, "I was carried away, quite intoxicated."

"Gwan!" says I. "Where'd you get the stuff?"

"I mean," says he, "by her wonderful beauty. And then, McCabe, in one
moment I--I kissed her!"

"Great guns!" says I. "Didn't plant a reg'lar smack, did you?"

He bows his head solemn. "Right on the lips," says he. "You see, we were
talking, her lovely face was very close, her glorious eyes were shining
into mine, when suddenly--well, it seemed as if I became dizzy, and the
next moment I seized her brutally in my arms and--and----"

"Good night!" says I, gaspin'. "What did she hit you with?"

"I--I can't say exactly what happened next," says Dudley. "I think I
dropped her and ran out here."

"Of all the boob plays!" says I. "To take a Brodie plunge like that, and
then do the fade-away!"

"But what must I do now?" groans Dudley. "Oh, what can I do?"

"Is she still in there?" says I.

"I--I suppose so," says he.

"Well, so far as I can see," says I, "you got to go back and apologize."

"What! Now?" says he.

"Before she has time to sick the old man on you with a gun," says I.

"Yes, yes!" says he. "Not that I am afraid of that. I wish he would
shoot me! I hope someone does! But I suppose I ought to beg her pardon."

"In with you, then!" says I, leadin' him towards the door.

With his hand on the knob he balks. "Oh, I can't!" says he. "I simply
cannot trust myself. If I should try, if I should find myself close to
her once more. McCabe, I--I might do it all over again."

"Say, look here, Dudley!" says I. "This ain't a habit you're breakin'
yourself of, you know: it's just a single slip you've got to apologize
for."

"I know," says he; "but you cannot imagine how m