“Yes. Poor Dick!”
His look made the question superfluous, yet Wareham said—
“There never will be bad blood between us?”
Hugh’s hand sought his in pledge.
“Never. I want to make it all right.”
“Wait for that, Hugh.”
“For what? For my ghost?” He breathed the words. “When you saw me that morning—what a sell!”
“Nothing had been said,” repeated Wareham doggedly.
“I know. I couldn’t have been so straight—with Anne before me. But you can’t laugh now at my madness.”
“Not I.”