I instantly avail myself of the permission to withdraw only too glad of the excuse, and retire, followed closely by Roland, who I can see is choking with suppressed laughter.
"How could you do it?" I ask, reproachfully, as we gain the hall-door. "They are all angry enough as it is."
"I could not help it," returns Roly, still struggling with his merriment; "the solemnity of the whole thing was too much for me. I knew I was going to laugh out loud, so pinched you to draw off attention."
"I think you might have chosen Billy."
"He was too far off; you were the most convenient."
"And so you sacrificed me to save yourself?" I exclaim, indignantly.
Like all men, Roland is unutterably selfish; unlike all men, he is ever ready to make atonement, once the selfish act is accomplished.
"Even so," he says now. "But look here, Phyllis: I'll make it up to you. Here's ten bob." And he tries to force the money into my unwilling hand.
"No, keep it," I return, softened by the gift; "I can do without it, and I am sure you want it yourself."
"I don't really," says Roland, looking fair into my eyes. "I have plenty—for a while; and you know you said yesterday you had spent your last penny. When you are Mrs. Carrington you can stand to me. Here: no nonsense: if you don't take it this moment, I'll chuck it into the pond."