"You know already how I feel about that."
They were still standing. He had been too eager to begin his report to offer her a chair or to take one himself.
"They can't expect me to repeat it, now, can they?" he hurried on. "There are limits, by Jove! I can't go begging to them—"
"I don't think they expect it."
"And yet, if I don't, you know—he's dished. He loses his money—and everything else."
In putting a slight emphasis on the concluding words he watched her closely. She betrayed herself to the extent of throwing back her head with a little tilt to the chin.
"I don't believe he'd consider that being dished. He's the sort of man who loses only when he—flings away."
"He's the sort of man who's a beastly cad."
He regretted these words as soon as they were uttered, but she had stung him to the quick. Her next words did so again.
"Then, if so, I hope you won't find it necessary to repeat the information. I mistook him for something very high—very high and noble; and, if you don't mind, I'd rather go on doing it."