"No," he said firmly.
"No!" exclaimed Mrs. Porter.
"No," repeated Mr. Penway with iron resolution. "No young woman. No
young woman whatsoever. I noticed it particularly, because I thought it
strange, don't you know--what I mean is, don't you know, strange there
shouldn't be!"
How tragic is a man's fruitless fight on behalf of a friend! For one
short instant Mrs. Porter allowed Mr. Penway to imagine that the
victory was his, then she administered the _coup-de-grace_.
"Don't lie, you worthless creature," she said. "They stopped at my
house on their way while the girl packed a suitcase."
Mr. Penway threw up his brief. There are moments when the stoutest-
hearted, even under the influence of old Bourbon, realize that to fight
on is merely to fight in vain.
He condensed his emotions into four words.
"Of all the chumps!" he remarked, and, pouring himself out a further
instalment of the raw spirit, he sat down, a beaten man.
Mrs. Porter continued to harry him.
"Exactly," she said. "So you see that there is no need for any more
subterfuge and concealment. I do not intend to leave this room until
you have told me all you have to tell, so you had better be quick about
it. Kindly tell me the truth in as few words as possible--if you know
what is meant by telling the truth."
A belated tenderness for his dignity came to Mr.
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