Prescott said nothing. In face of such a situation, any remarks that he could make would be superfluous. There was a long silence; and then Jernyngham spoke again, slowly, but resolutely.
“You see how it is, Jack—where my interest lies. Against that, there’s the feelings of my father and sister to consider. Then my reinstatement would have to be bought by casting off the woman who has borne with my failings and stuck to me pluckily. I haven’t sunk quite so far as that. You’ll have to tell Colston that I’m staying here!”
He got up and Prescott laid a hand on his arm.
“It’s hard; but you’re doing the square thing, Cyril.”
Jernyngham shook off his hand.
“Don’t let us talk in that strain. Come and see Ellice and try to amuse her. Don’t know what’s wrong with the woman; she has been moody of late.”
“I must get back as soon as I can and I’ve some business to do.”
“Oh, well,” acquiesced Jernyngham, walking with him to the bar, which was the quickest way of leaving.
On reaching it he turned and glanced about sardonically. The room was dark, filled with flies, and evil smelling, as well as thick with smoke; half a dozen, untidy men leaned against the counter.
“What a set of loafing swine you are!” he coolly remarked. “It’s not to the point that I’m no better, but if any of you feel insulted, I’ll be happy to make what I’ve said good.”