"Why, when I tell him. Poor John!"
He stuffed the damp handkerchief back into his pocket, and lit a cigarette.
"When you tell him what?"
"Why, about us."
Wick very deliberately puffed at his cigarette. "I don't think I would mention it," he said.
"Oliver, what do you mean?"
He rose, and walked up and down in front of her.
"I mean that because I just lost my head and made a fool of myself there is no reason that that splendid old fellow should be—worried."
"Worried!" she almost screamed. "I don't understand you."
"Well, I mean, my dear, that because—I behaved like a cad and—and kissed a girl who is going to marry another man—a man a thousand times my superior in every way—there is no reason for his being troubled by knowing about it. I am ashamed of myself, and I beg your pardon, and I am sure you will forgive me."