"But we can't go down like this, Leicester, we may as well——"
"All right, have your own way. I'll join you in five minutes. 'The apparel oft proclaims the man,' therefore let us be respectable. Respectable, oh, I'll let some of 'em know what respectability means."
Winfield left the room deep in thought. He was a man of the world, but he was sorry to see how Leicester was taking his blow. He would rather have seen him give way to grief, or make threats of vengeance.
A few minutes later they met in the dining-room. Both were in faultless attire, although Winfield noticed that his friend's mood had not changed.
"The club dinner," said Leicester to the waiter, "and let us have it at once."
"Yes, sir. What'll you take to drink, sir?"
"Drink! Oh, whisky and soda. Bring a large bottle of each."
The waiter went away. He had heard that Leicester was to have been married that day, and he naturally wondered what he was doing there; but of course he showed no surprise.
"By the way, Leicester," said Winfield, as he toyed with a piece of bread on the table, "I've been thinking that things may not be so bad as we thought."
"Oh, chuck it, Winfield. I've learnt my lesson. I've been a fool, but I'll not close my eyes to facts any longer."