“I want you to begin also, Mr Airey,” said she.
“To begin? Oh, I made my start years ago—when I entered Parliament,” said he. “I was perfectly frank with the Opposition when I pointed out their mistakes. I have never yet been frank with a friend, however. That is why I still have a few left.”
“You must be frank with me now; if you won’t it doesn’t matter: I’ll be so to you. I admit that I behaved like an idiot; but you were responsible for it—yes, largely.”
“That is a capital beginning. Now tell me what you have done or left undone—above all, tell me where my responsibility comes in.”
“You like Harold Wynne?”
“You suggest that a mere liking involves a certain responsibility?”
“I love him.”
“Great heavens!”
“Why should you be startled at the confession when you have been aware of the fact for some time?”
“I never met a frank woman before. It is very terrible. Perhaps I shall get used to it.”