Chatteris made no answer and Melville did not repeat his question.
Presently Chatteris turned about. “Let’s walk,” he said, and they paced westward, side by side.
He made a little speech. “I’m sorry to give everybody all this trouble,” he said with an air of having prepared his sentences; “I suppose there is no question that I have behaved like an ass. I am profoundly sorry. Largely it is my own fault. But you know—so far as the overt kick-up goes—there is a certain amount of blame attaches to our outspoken friend Mrs. Bunting.”
“I’m afraid there is,” Melville admitted.
“You know there are times when one is under the necessity of having moods. It doesn’t help them to drag them into general discussion.”
“The mischief’s done.”
“You know Adeline seems to have objected to the presence of—this sea lady at a very early stage. Mrs. Bunting overruled her. Afterwards when there was trouble she seems to have tried to make up for it.”
“I didn’t know Miss Glendower had objected.”
“She did. She seems to have seen—ahead.”
Chatteris reflected. “Of course all that doesn’t excuse me in the least. But it’s a sort of excuse for your being dragged into this bother.”