"No! No! I——" he began in an altered voice.
"Yes! Yes!" broke in his friend. "What will she do? What will become of her? Have you ever thought of that? She will have a dozen lovers, will she? Who will be responsible? Have you ever thought of that?
"You have not! I can see it in your face! And I suppose you consider yourself an honorable man, a model husband, a blameless father! If you won't do your duty, Floriot, by the living God! I'll do it for you!"
Floriot started up and moved toward his friend with queer, halting steps.
"What—do—you—mean?" came from his lips in barely more than a whisper.
Noel looked squarely into his eyes.
"I mean that your wife shall find in my house the place that you refuse her! My life shall be hers—and I will ask nothing in exchange!"
Floriot halted and stiffened and for a dozen seconds the two men gazed into each other's eyes. Then Floriot spoke slowly and coldly:
"It seems to me, Noel, that you are presuming little beyond the privilege of even a friend."
"In this case I have more than the privilege—of a friend!" was the calm reply, with a note of meaning in the voice.