“I? Oh—I’ve no opinion in the matter,” answered Katharine, looking away, and feeling very uncomfortable.
“I don’t agree with either of you,” said Ralston, slowly. “It depends entirely on circumstances. There are cases where it’s the only thing to do, if people really love each other. I don’t think any one has a right to say that a man’s a cad simply because he’s married his wife secretly. A man’s a much worse cad who marries a girl for her money, and doesn’t care for her, than any man who gets secretly married for real love—and you all know it.”
Ralston could not help speaking rather aggressively.
“Look out for the family temper!” laughed Walter Crowdie, in his exquisitely musical voice.
“We’re all more or less of the family here,” answered Ralston, “except Mr. Griggs and Wingfield. Not that we’re likely to get angry about such a question,” he added, with an attempt at indifference. “What I say is that it’s a monstrous injustice to call a man a cad on such grounds.”
“Oh—all right, Jack!” cried Bright. “If ever you get secretly married, we won’t say you’re a cad. But in most cases—well, I’d rather hear Griggs talk about it than talk myself. He’s an expert in love affairs—on paper, as he says. Say what you really think, Griggs. Wingfield and I can hold Ralston between us if he shows signs of being dangerous.”
“I think I could help myself, in a modest way,” said Mr. Griggs, with a quiet smile. “I used to be pretty strong once.”
He made the remark merely in the hope of turning the conversation. Wingfield, as an athlete and a young Hercules, could not hear any allusion made to physical strength without taking it up and discussing it.
“Were you a boating man, Mr. Griggs?” he enquired, with sudden interest.
“No. I never pulled in a race.”