"Why do you worry about the fellow?" he asked.
"Well, I'll speak plainly, too," she cried. "He's not a fool; and he's an honest man. That's why I don't want him here;" and enduring only till she had flung out the truth, she buried her face in her hands.
"I've had enough of him," said Willie Ruston, frowning. "He's always got in my way; first about the Company—and now——"
He broke off, pushing his chair back, and rising to his feet. He walked to the window of the little sitting-room where they were; the sun was setting over the sea, and early dusk gathering. It was still, save for the sound of the waves.
"Is there nobody at home?" he asked, with his back towards her.
"No. Marjory and the children have gone down to the Rome to have tea with Bessie Semingham."
He waited a moment longer, looking out, then he came back and stood facing her. She was leaning her head on her hand. At last she spoke in a low voice.
"He's Harry's friend," she said, "and he used to be mine; and he trusted me."
Willie Ruston threw his head back with a little sharp jerk.
"Oh, well, I didn't come to talk about Tom Loring," he said. "If you value his opinion so very much, why, you must keep it; that's all," and he moved towards where his hat was lying. "But I'm afraid I can't share my friends with him."