I think it was perfectly lovely of
you."
"What was that?" Now it must be admitted that J. Wallingford
Speed, in his relations with the other sex, frequently found
himself in a position requiring mental gymnastics of a high
order; but, as a rule, his memory was good, and he seldom crossed
his own trail, so to speak. In this instance he was utterly
without remembrance, however, and hence was non-committal.
"What you told me about your friendship for Mr. Covington. I
think it is very unselfish of you."
"Oh, I wouldn't say that," ventured the young man, vainly racking
his brain. "Nobody could help liking Culver."
"Yes; but how many men would step aside and let their best friend
win prize after prize and never undertake to compete against
him?" Speed blushed faintly, as any modest man might have done.
"Did I tell you that?" he inquired.
"Indeed you did."
"Then please don't speak of it to a mortal soul. I must have said
a great deal that first day, but--"
"But I _have_ spoken of it, and I said I thought it was fine
of you.
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