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`How do you know?' `Oh,' said Dawes, `I reckon he spent th' night --' There was a good deal of laughter at Paul's expense. `But who was she? D'you know her?' asked the mutual friend. `I should shay sho,' said Dawes. This brought another burst of laughter. `Then spit it out,' said the mutual friend. Dawes shook his head, and took a gulp of beer. `It's a wonder he hasn't let on himself,' he said. `He'll be braggin' of it in a bit.' `Come on, Paul,' said the friend; `it's no good. You might just as well own up.' `Own up what? That I happened to take a friend to the theatre?' `Oh well, if it was all right, tell us who she was, lad,' said the friend. `She was all right,' said Dawes. Paul was furious. Dawes wiped his golden moustache with his fingers, sneering. `Strike me -- ! One o' that sort?' said the mutual friend. `Paul, boy, I'm surprised at you. And do you know her, Baxter?' `Just a bit, like!' He winked at the other men. `Oh well,' said Paul, `I'll be going!' The mutual friend laid a detaining hand on his shoulder. `Nay,' he said, `you don't get off as easy as that, my lad. We've got to have a full account of this business.' `Then get it from Dawes!' he said. `You shouldn't funk your own deeds, man,' remonstrated the friend. Then Dawes made a remark which caused Paul to throw half a glass of beer in his face. `Oh, Mr Morel!' cried the barmaid, and she rang the bell for the `chucker-out'. Dawes spat and rushed for the young man. At that minute a brawny fellow with his shirt-sleeves rolled up and his trousers tight over his haunches intervened. `Now, then!' he said, pushing his chest in front of Dawes. `Come out!' cried Dawes. |
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