"I never tried to divorce her," moaned Jack.
"Never mind your conduct to your wife; we can leave that out."
"I was very fond of Miss Pinsent; but she was hard to me."
"I've nothing to do with all that. What do you want to resist the divorce for?" His tone was savage; how dare this creature tell him that he had been very fond of Ora Pinsent? Must her memory be still more defiled? Should he always have to think of this man when he thought of her? Jack shrank lower and lower in his chair under the flash of severity; his words died away into confused mutterings; he stretched out his hand towards the whiskey bottle.
"You're half drunk already," said Ashley. Jack looked at him for an instant with hazy eyes, and then poured out some liquor; Ashley shrugged his shoulders; his suggested reason had, he perceived, no validity. Jack drank his draught and leant forward towards his entertainer with a fresh flicker of boldness.
"I know what their game is, Mr. Mead," he said. "Daisy let it all out when we had our row."
"Whose game?"
"Why, Ora's, and that damned Flint's, and Hazlewood's."
"Will you oblige me in one point? If you will, you may have some more whiskey. Tell the story without mentioning Miss Pinsent."