"Paul! You don't mean to say it's you!" exclaimed Stanley as their hands met in the darkness. "What's brought you here?"
"To see you, of course."
"Well, you can't see much of me, I'm thinking, by this precious light; so, if you won't mind me saying it, old chap, it was silly of you to come."
"No it wasn't. I couldn't bear the thought of your moping here by yourself, and it was a ghastly shame of Weevil to send you."
"Oh, come to think of it quietly, he was right enough! I dare say I could have got out of the pickle by speaking, but I was obstinate. Solitude isn't so bad," he added cheerfully. "It helps you to chew the cud of reflection."
"And a bitter cud it is sometimes. That's why I've come. It's better for two to try their teeth on it than one."
"It's very good of you, Paul, coming to me. Is Harry all right?"
"Oh, he's all right, though he was rather cut up at your having to come here for him. It's Newall you'll have to look out for. He won't be satisfied till he's paid back that blow you gave him. He told me as much."
"What did he say? Tell me the exact words."
"After you had gone away with Mr. Weevil, I told Newall what I thought—that he had acted meanly in not speaking up. 'Why should I have spoken?' he burst out. 'I didn't want to speak. All I wanted was to get that blow back that Moncrief gave me; and I'll have it back, if I die for it!'"