He poured himself out a drink and sat down.
“Raymond, I had no idea how devoted Violet was to you till to-night,” he said. “I think she’s afraid to let herself go, to shew it too much.”
The grossness of Raymond, his animal proprietorship, was never more apparent. It was enough for him to desire her.
“Oh, Vi’s all right,” he said.
Colin felt his ribs a-quiver with the spasm of his suppressed laughter. He distrusted his power of control if he subjected himself to further temptation.
“I’m off to bed,” he said. “I just looked in to envy you.”
“Where’s Vi?” asked Raymond.
Colin bethought himself that he did not want Raymond knocking at Violet’s door for a good-night kiss.
“Oh, she went upstairs half an hour ago,” he said. “She told me she was awfully sleepy. In fact, she soon got tired of me.”
He drank in a final impression of Raymond’s satisfied face and went upstairs, going first to his room, where from his locked despatch-case he took the two letters which Salvatore had given him, and which now bore the dates of March 17 and March 31. Then, passing down the long corridor, he came to her room; the door was ajar, and he rapped softly and then entered.