Esther eyed him with curiosity. "Did you like that?" she asked.
"I didn't seem to mind it at the time." His tone was amused still, but just a little puzzled. "No, I didn't mind it."
"I believe—yes, I do—I believe you were flirting with the impudent little creature! Oh, you men! This is what we get! We cry our eyes out for you, and all the time you're——!"
"Men must work and women must weep!" said Arthur.
"That's just what Judith was doing—literally—all the way home in the car; and in bed afterwards, very likely." Esther rapped out the disclosure tartly. "And all the while you were——!" Words failed the indignant woman.
"Cried? What, not really? Poor old Judith! What a shame! I must write to her and tell her I'm as jolly as possible."
"Oh, I daresay she's got over it by now," said Esther, with a dig at his vanity. But he accepted the suggestion with a cheerful alacrity which disappointed her malice.
"Of course she has! She's a sensible girl. What's the good of crying?"
"Would you have liked to be asked that at all moments of your life, Arthur?"
He laughed. "Rather a searching question sometimes, isn't it? But poor Judith! I had no idea——" His remorse, though genuine enough, was still tinged with amusement. The smile lurked about his mouth.