"
"You've certainly required _that_ kind of pluck to bear you up lately,
Monty," said Owen, looking up from his books.
"Pluck!" said Montagu, scornfully; "you seem to me to think it consists
in lowering yourself down to the level of that odious Brigson, and
joining hand and glove with the dregs of the school."
"Dregs of the school! Upon my word, you're cool, to speak of any of my
associates in that way," said Eric, now thoroughly angry.
"Associates!" retorted Montagu, hotly; "pretty associates! How do you
expect anything good to go on, when fellows high in the school like you
have such dealings with the refined honorable Brigson, and the exemplary
intellectual Wildney?"
"You're a couple of confounded muffs," shouted Eric, banging the door,
and flinging into his own study again without farther reply.
"Hav'n't you been a little hard on him, considering the row he's in?"
asked Owen.
Montagu's head was resting on his hand as he bent over the table.
"Perhaps I have, indeed. But who could help it, Owen, in the present
state of things? Yes, you're right," he said, after a pause; "_this_
wasn't the time to speak.
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