Neither need you. I'm a
sort of out-of-season April Fool. At least, I was. I'm not now."
"I tell you--you're bughouse!" stammered Logan.
"You stand up for a girl you don't know a damn thing about---"
"I'd stand up for any girl against you," he was cut short again. "But
I do know this girl. I won't say how. I know you're the dirt under her
feet, and if I hadn't made sure every way that she was out of the
house, I'd have set the police onto you as--as I _wouldn't_ set
terriers onto a rat."
"You--you can't tell me her name--or anything about her--I'll bet!"
"You won't bet with me. And neither of us is going to speak her name
here. Shut your mouth on it if you don't want it stuffed down your
throat and your teeth after it. You've been a villain. That's the one
thing that stands out in this business. God! do you think you could
make me believe anything wrong about that girl--_you_? Why, if an
angel looped the loop down from heaven to do it I wouldn't. Tell me
what store she's working in. That's what I want to hear about her from
you, and nothing else."
Logan was not red in the face now. He had grown very pale. In truth,
he was frightened.
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