"To me, of course."
"Why shouldn't it be fair to you?" Her eyes, close-lidded, were fixed upon the floor. As long as she looked at him Spinks held himself well in hand; but the sudden withdrawing of those dangerous weapons threw him off his guard.
"Because he knows I—Oh hang it all, that's what I swore I wouldn't say."
"You haven't said it."
"No, but I've made you see it."
His handsome face stiffened with horror at his stupidity. To let fall the slightest hint of his feeling was, he felt, the last disloyalty to Rickman. He had a vague idea that he ought instantly to go. But instead of going he sat there, silent, fixing on his own enormity a mental stare so concentrated that it would have drawn Flossie's attention to it, if she had not seen it all the time.
"If there's anything to see," said she, "there's no reason why I shouldn't see it."
"P'raps not. There's every reason, though, why I should have held my silly tongue."
"Why, what difference does it make?"
"It doesn't make any difference to you, of course, and it can't make any difference—really—to him; but it's a downright dishonourable thing to do, and that makes a jolly lot of difference to me. You see, I haven't any business to go and feel like this."