His mortification was extreme, and it made him feel sick to see Cecil Aviolet, almost gibbering, mouthing incoherent excuses and meaningless explanations.
“I didn’t—never meant to mock ... you were the only person ... kind to me.... I can’t help it ... it seems to come.... Oh, and I thought the Confirmation——”
He broke down, crying.
“Stop that,” said Perriman contemptuously. “You—you girl—you! Take your hysterics out of here! I’ve had enough of them.”
With hard eyes, he saw the boy creep to the door.
Then the kindly instincts, the old habit of faithful adherence to the precepts of his religion, that were the essential part of the young man’s being, asserted themselves.
“Half a second—look here—come back! I can’t let you go away like that. Aviolet, what on earth made you tell me that senseless lie, accusing yourself of something you’d never done? Was it a—a rotten kind of joke?”
“No—no, sir.... I don’t know ... I can’t help it.... I’m made like that. I told you I was——”
“I don’t know what to believe as to the things you’ve told me,” sighed Perriman. “But I don’t want to be hard on you. I set out to help you, Aviolet, but I’ve bungled badly, somehow. That’s very evident. I—I’m sorry I saw red just now. It was senseless, as well as unkind, to speak as I did. But, you see, I can’t understand you. I don’t think I can help you. I’ve been on a wrong tack altogether, I’m afraid.”
Cecil sobbed on drearily.