"I'm sick of this life; it is not fit for us. Why did we come?" he asked, angrily, as he assisted his perplexed father into his great-coat.
"I—I don't know, Sid," stammered the father. "I thought that we were spending quite a pleasant evening. Has anyone said anything?"
"Let us be off!"
Maurice Hinchford came from the dining-room towards them with a quick step. There was excitement, even an evidence of concern upon his handsome face.
"Sidney," he said, holding out his hand towards him, "I understand all this; I can explain all this at a more befitting time. Don't go now—it looks bad. It isn't quite fair to us or yourself."
"You are Maurice Darcy!" said Sid, sternly.
"It was a fool's trick, of which I have heartily repented. It——"
"You were the man who deliberately sought the ruin of an innocent girl to whom I was engaged—you sought my disgrace and hers, and you ask me to your house, and insult me through your friends thus shamelessly. You make a jest——"
"On my honour, no, sir!"
"No matter—I see to whom I have been indebted; perhaps the motive which led to past preferment—I am ashamed and mortified—I have done with you and yours for ever. I would curse the folly that led me hither to-night, were it not for the light in which it has placed my enemies!"