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 some of them think there is." He scowled darkly. "I had to sock one last year," he added.

"Who?"

"Never mind who. He's kept his mouth shut ever since, you don't need to worry about that."

"What did he say?" persisted Jock.

Bones told him.

"He said that? Some low-down skunk said that?" Swiftly as it had blazed up, Jock's anger sank again. "Oh well, hell," he continued, "he was probably somebody whose opinion isn't worth a hoot anyway. But it makes me sore just the same. Why would anybody, no matter who he was, think that? That's what I want to know. Just because I go over there a Jot—or used to? Don't they understand that Brad's one of the best friends I've got in the world?"

Again Bones hesitated. "I don't like to razz a woman, particularly one you like, but honest, Jock, if you could hear Mrs. Hathaway talk I think you'd understand a whole lot better. For instance: remember that house dance we had last year in May? She was one of the chaperones, remember? Well, I heard her telling a roomfull of girls and fellows all about how jealous her husband was of you. Boasting about it! Tickled to death about it! And later on I danced with her, and what do you think she said to me? She said, 'I hear you're going to room with my honey next year.' Well, now, what I mean, stuff like that from a married woman doesn't go down so good. It gives a wrong impression, and people who don't know you think"

"Why, she's crazy!" Jock broke in excitedly. "She's crazy as a coot! Why, I've never even kissed the girl, Bones. I've never looked at her, hardly. I don't even like her! And as for Brad being jealous, that's a