“In a café?”
“Yes—go on.”
“That’s all.”
“And you—Oh, say—all this cat-fit is because you saw Andree in a café with another man! Get out!”
“With that particular man. You know what Jacques said about him.... You know Andree wants to get into the Conservatoire and on the stage. I introduced them—”
“More fool you,” said Bert, succinctly.
“It was plain enough. She could use him. She needed his influence—so—Oh, what’s the use? I don’t want to talk about it.”
Bert thought that Ken’s view was altogether likely. And why not? But he conceived it to be his duty to argue against it in his friend’s interest. “Just a case of plain, or garden, jealousy. Nothing to it. You see them together in a café and jump to conclusions. Didn’t hang around to see where they went?”
“Certainly not.”
“Made up your mind with a snap—and then, because you were jealous, and it looked as if your nose was out of joint, you hollered sour grapes. In a second it all got to be immoral and naughty—and you’re worked up to a state of mind.... If this actor had never come along, and if Andree had loved you alone and all that, would it have been wrong?... Of course not, and you know it.”