“Who would take more, doctor? Put out, of course; but the weaker sex, eh? Yes, the weaker sex.”
He refilled the doctor’s glass and his own.
“An accident. Pray, don’t think it was anything else; and, I say: you will contradict any one who says otherwise?”
“Of course, of course.”
“There are disagreeable people who might say that the poor dear sprang off the pier in a fit of temper at being left behind, but we know better, eh, doctor?”
“Oh, of course,” said Asher, playing with and enjoying his glass of champagne.
“It’s a wonderful thing, temper. Take a cigar?”
“Thanks, no. I never smoke in the daytime.”
“Sorry for you, doctor. Professional reasons, I suppose?”
Asher bowed.