My throat was just filling up as Fee spoke,--I could almost have cried;
and I'm sure Phil was touched, too, but he tried not to let us see it.
He sort of scuffled his feet on the marble tiling of the hall, and
cleared his throat in the most indifferent way, looking up at the gas
fixture. "Perhaps I will drop them by and by," he said carelessly, "but
I can't just yet,--in fact, I don't want to just yet; I have a reason.
And that reminds me--I _must_ go back to-night. Now don't get _silly_
over me, Felix; there's no danger whatever of my becoming a drunkard or
a gambler,--nice opinion of me you must have!--and I'm quite equal to
taking care of myself. As I've told you several times before, I'm a man
now, not a child, and I will _not_ have you or anybody running round
after me. Just remember that!" As he spoke, he turned deliberately to
go out.
Then Fee did a foolish thing; he ought to have known Phil better, but
he was so awfully disappointed that I guess he forgot. In about one
second--I don't know how he _ever_ got there so quickly--he had limped
to the door, and planted himself with his back against it. His face was
just as _white_! and his lips were set tight together, and he held his
head up in the air, looking Phil square in the eye.
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