Both ladies eyed him cautiously. He was so innocent, he was such a simple child that they could almost have found it in their hearts to pity him.
"We feel bound to mention it, Harry," said Miss Press. "Poor Cora can't take her oats or anything. She has to have a sleeping draught now."
"And she's getting that thin, poor thing," chimed the plaintive Miss Bonser.
The Sailor's perplexity grew.
"If you ask me," said Miss Press, suddenly taking a higher note, "it's up to you, Harry, to play the gentleman." Watching the color change in his face, she knew she was on the target now. "A gentleman don't play fast and loose, if you ask me."
"At least, not the sort we are used to," whispered Miss Bonser, in a superb pianissimo.
"It's Lord Caradoc and Pussy Pearson over again," said Miss Press. "But Caradoc being the goods married Pussy without making any bones about it. Harry, it's up to you to follow the example of a real gentleman. Forgive us for speaking plain."
Henry Harper glanced nervously from one lady to the other. A light was just beginning to dawn upon him.
"Cora's a straight girl," said Miss Bonser, taking up the parable. "She's one of the plucky ones, is Cora. It's a hard world for lonely girls like her, isn't it, Gert?"
"It is, dear," said Gert. "And one like Cora, whose position, as you might say, is uncertain, can't be too careful. You see, Harry, you have been coming to her flat for the best part of a year. You've been with her to the theater and the Coliseum; two Sundays ago she was seen with you on the river, and—well, she's been getting herself talked about, and that's all there is to it."