"Oh well, you can't help your feelings, can you?" she said softly. "Anybody may have feelings—"
"Yes, but a decent chap, you know, wouldn't let on that he had any—at least, not when the girl he—he—you know what I mean, it's what I mustn't say—when she and the other fellow weren't hitting it off very well together."
"Oh, you think it might make a difference then?"
"No, I don't—not reelly. It's only the feeling I have about it, don't you see. It seems somehow so orf'ly mean. Razors wouldn't have done it if it had been me, you know."
"But it couldn't have been you."
"Of course it couldn't," said the miserable Spinks with a weak spurt of anger; "that was only my way of putting it."
"What are you driving at? What ever did you think I said?"
"Never mind what you said. You're making me talk about it, and I said I wouldn't."
"When did you say that?"
"Ages ago—when Rickets first told me you—and he—"