“I might return the compliment, Courtlaw,” he answered, “by asking why the devil you come lurching on to the pavement like a drunken man.”
Courtlaw was pale and dishevelled. He was carelessly dressed, and there were marks of unrest upon his features. He pointed to where the lights still burned in Anna’s windows.
“What do you think of that farce?” he exclaimed bitterly. “You are one of those who must know all about it. Was there ever such madness?”
“I am afraid that I don’t understand,” Ennison answered. “You seem to have come from Miss Pellissier’s rooms. I had no idea even that she was a friend of yours.”
Courtlaw laughed hardly. His eyes were red. He was in a curious state of desperation.
“Nor am I now,” he answered. “I have spoken too many truths to-night. Why do women take to lies and deceit and trickery as naturally as a duck to water?”
“You are not alluding, I hope, to Miss Pellissier?” Ennison said stiffly.
“Why not? Isn’t the whole thing a lie? Isn’t her reputation, this husband of hers, the ‘Alcide’ business, isn’t it all a cursed juggle? She hasn’t the right to do it. I——”
He stopped short. He had the air of a man who has said too much. Ennison was deeply interested.