"Georgie"
"Why—well, I was in the devil's own rage," he confessed frankly. "I poured the whiskey on to the floor over his beastly brown boots, and told him candidly what I thought of him and his—his dashed union."
"Well?" her face fell a little at his free language.
"He didn't like it much. I told him professionalism was the curse of sport and the ruin of the country, and I said the representatives of the Northern Union could knock spots off everyone else for blackguardism. I said if he came near me again with his beastly bribes, he'd find himself unexpectedly taking his first cold bath—in the river!"
"Georgie!"
"Yes," said Georgie pleasantly, "I'm afraid I did rather let myself go, but I apologized to him in the end. I told him that my remarks had no personal meaning, and I supposed he only did this sort of thing because he hadn't the brain to earn his living decently. I asked him to come
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