'I really think,' said Hicks at length, 'that it rests with you. You must say what is to be done, what story is to be told, what farce is to be acted. It seems to me that you know more about it than I do. Somehow I have lately dropped out of Mrs. Wylie's confidence, and ... and Brenda has not spoken to me about her sister.'
'But,' said Trist, 'I know nothing of what you refer to as the common gossip of ... of all these.'
He indicated the assembled multitude with a gesture which was scarcely complimentary. Hicks looked uncomfortable, and bit his red lip nervously.
'Don't be hard on us,' he pleaded with an unnatural laugh. 'I am one of them.'
'Tell me,' said Trist with a sudden gravity of manner, '... tell me what they are saying.'
'Well ... it is hardly fair to ask me.'
'Why?'
'Because you will not thank me for having told you. We ... we don't, as a rule, give the benefit of the doubt, you know.'
The elder man turned and looked at his companion with a slow smile.
'My dear Hicks,' he said, 'it is many years since I gave up caring what the world might say, or expecting the benefit of the doubt.'