It seems to me it's infinitely more 'plucky' just now to do your duty and not be ashamed of it." "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.

I'll go and talk to him again.

But how utterly changed he is!" He found Eric on the stairs going down to bed with an affectation of noise and gaiety.

He ran after him, and said-- "Forgive me my passion and sarcasm, Williams.