Nothing could have been more demoralizing than the spectacle of Spinks's face as he delivered himself of his immense confession; so fantastically did it endeavour to chasten rapture with remorse. Rickman controlled himself the better to enjoy it; for Spinks, taken seriously, yielded an inexhaustible vein of purest comedy. "Oh, Spinky," he said with grave reproach, "how could you?"
"Well, I know it was a beastly dishonourable thing to do; but you see I was really most awkwardly situated."
"I daresay you were." It was all very well to laugh; but in spite of his amusement he sympathized with Spinky's delicacy. He also had found himself in awkward situations more than once.
"Still," continued Spinks with extreme dejection, "I can't think how I came to let it out."
That, and the dejection, was too much for Rickman's gravity.
"If you want the truth, Spinky, the pity was you ever kept it in."
And his laughter, held in, piled up, monstrous, insane, ungovernable, broke forth, dispersing the last scruple that clouded the beatitude of Spinks.