I looked back again: "Is that the only reason?"
"Well, she kept writing, and making out, in spite of what I'd said, that she was expecting me to join them at Marseilles. And had put off somebody else who wanted to go. If I backed out—I had never backed in—I would be breaking up the party and behaving like the devil." He spoke more ill-temperedly than I had ever heard him.
"How will it end?" I asked.
"End? I'm hanged if I'll go. I've told her I wouldn't, from the beginning. But I only convinced her yesterday."
We walked on.
"They've asked Betty," I said.
"No!" He caught me up and walked at my side. "When did they do that?"
"Yesterday evening."
"Is Betty going?"
"No," I said.