"It's the right thing for him to do, but it'll make it still more difficult to go on as if nothing had happened. However I hope you will see Lord Meriton and get his opinion."
"I should like you to talk to Wellgood and find out what his terms really are. I can't ask favours of him, but I want to know exactly where we stand. And Vivien—no, I must write to her myself, poor dear girl. Not a pleasant letter to write." He paused a moment and asked, with an air of being rather ashamed of the question, "Is the sinner himself very desperate?"
"Last night he was, I think; at any rate terribly angry with himself, and—I'm afraid I must add—with his bad luck. When I saw him off this morning he was in one of his defiant moods, saying he could get on without Meriton's approval, and wishing the whole place at the devil."
"Yes, yes, that's Harry! Because he's made a fool—and worse—of himself, you and I and Meriton are to go to the devil! Well, I suppose it's not peculiar to poor Harry. And you saw him off? I can't thank you for all your kindness, Andy."
"Well, sir, if a man can feel that way, I'd almost rather have done the thing myself! I've got to ask her to see me on his behalf."
Belfield shook his head. "Not much to be said there. And I've got to tell my wife. Not much there either."
"I'm afraid Mrs. Belfield will be terribly distressed."
"Yes, yes; but mothers wear special spectacles, you know. She'll think it very deplorable, but it's quite likely that she'll find out it's somebody else's fault. Wellgood's, probably, because she never much liked him. If it helps her, let her think so."
"It was partly his fault. Why didn't he own up about Miss Vintry?"
"Not much excuse, even if you'd been the trespasser. With Harry engaged to Vivien, no excuse at all. How could it be in any legitimate way Harry's business what Wellgood wanted of Isobel Vintry? Still it may be that the argument'll be good enough for his mother."