"D'you really think so? You mean I 'adn't any rights—it—it wasn't fair to you—to come back as I've done?"
"Well, I don't know about its being very fair; it certainly wasn't very safe."
"Safe? Safe? Ah—I was afraid you'd think that. Won't you let me explain?"
"Certainly. I should like to know your reasons for running into me like a giddy locomotive."
"Well, but I can't explain anything if you go on rotting like that."
"All right. Only look sharp. I've got to meet a fellow in Baker Street at seven. If you'll get under weigh we might finish off the explanation outside, if you're going back that way."
"Going back. Oh Lord—don't you know that I've come back here to stay. I've got a room—"
"Oh, that's the explanation, is it?"
"No, that's the thing I've got to explain. I thought you'd think I'd acted dishonourably in—in following her like this. But I couldn't stand it over there without her. I tried, but on my soul I couldn't. I shall be all right if I can only see her sometimes, at meals and—and so forth. I shan't say a word. I haven't said a word. I don't even think she knows; and if she did—So it's perfectly safe, you know, Rickman, it's perfectly safe."
"Who doesn't know what? And if who did?" roared Rickman, overcome with laughter.