"I'll make you some tea."
He watched her preparing it, and, by the time she handed him his cup, he was in the right mood for making her his confidant.
"Look here, Madeleine," he said; "I came up to-night—The fact is, I've done a foolish thing. And I want to talk to some one about it."
Her eyes grew more alert.
"Let me see if I can help you."
He shook his head. "I'm afraid you can't. But first of all, tell me frankly, how you thought I got on last night."
"How you got on?" echoed Madeleine, unclear what this was to lead to. "Why, all right, of course.—Oh, well, if you insist on the truth!—The fact is, Maurice, you did no better and no worse than the majority of those who fill the ABEND programmes. What you didn't do, was to reach the standard your friends had set up for you."
"Thanks. Now listen," and he related to her in detail his misadventure of the afternoon.
Madeleine followed with close attention. But more distinctly than what he said, she heard what he did not say. His account of the two last days, with the unintentional sidelight it threw on just those parts he wished to keep in darkness, made her aware how complicated and involved his life had become. But before he finished speaking, she brought all her practical intelligence to bear on what he said.
"Maurice!" she exclaimed, with a consternation that was three parts genuine. "I should like to shake you. How COULD you!—what induced you to do such a foolish thing?" And, as he did not speak: "If only you had come to me before, instead of after! I should have said: hold what ridiculous opinions you like yourself, but for goodness' sake keep clear of Schwarz with them. Yes, ridiculous, and offensive, too. Anyone would have taken your talk about being dissatisfied just as he did. And after the way he has been treated of late, he's of course doubly touchy."