"It breaks me up completely to see Linda like that," said Whitcomb at last, wiping his eyes and shaking his shoulders impatiently. He faced his host, and realized the latter's appearance. No one could look seedier than King, he thought. "Of course I know you're rushed," he added, "but in your place I'd rather have sat up all night than not to see her off; and the humorous part of it is that I've been believing you were crazy about her."
The two regarded each other for a silent space, and for the first time there crept into the younger man's mind the cold suspicion that the change in Linda's fortune had affected Bertram King. Even so, it could not have made such a brute of him as to let Linda creep off alone!
"Harriet was there, and Henry," he said, just for the sake of speaking, while he strove with this strange idea, one which had elements of relief for himself while it added fuel to his indignation with King.
"Of course," answered the other coolly. "So that was a pretty good bodyguard, for you're always a host, Freddy."
"There was very little I could do for her," declared Whitcomb, "and I'm sure you—you hurt her feelings."
"I'm glad you were there," said King.
"You've no right to be glad," retorted Freddy.
The older man smiled. "Isn't it magnanimous in me to be glad she's wearing your violets instead of mine, eating your chocolates instead of mine, reading your magazines instead—"
"Stop!" said Whitcomb, raising his hand imperatively. "It's sacrilege to joke about her."
"You're a nice chap, Freddy," declared King slowly.