"You see, I rather thought I was a sorter friend of yours, and that I ought to stand up for you." "Did--did this man say anything against me ?" "No--not exactly; he--he just asked questions." Her eyes were scornful, angry, "Indeed! Well, permit me to say, Mr.Westcott, that I choose my own friends, and am perfectly competent to defend my own character.

This closes our acquaintanceship." She moved about the end of the table, and touched Beaton's sleeve with her fingers.
"Would you escort me to the foot of the stairs ?" she asked, her voice softening.

"We will leave this belligerent individual to his own company." Neither of them glanced back, the girl still speaking as they disappeared, but Westcott turned in his chair to watch them cross the room.

He had no sense of anger, no desire to retaliate, but he felt dazed and as though the whole world was suddenly turned upside down.
So she really belonged with that outfit, did she?
Well, it was a good joke on him.
The waitress spoke to him twice before he was sufficiently aroused to give his order..