"No; but he might have been. He—he helped to put the fire out. Oh, Louis, it's horribly hard on him!"
Stanistreet clenched his teeth lest he should blaspheme.
"How long have you known Nevill?" she asked, as if she had read his thoughts.
"I don't know. A long time—"
"How many years? Think."
"Fifteen perhaps. We were at Marlborough together in seventy-eight."
"You've known him twenty years then. And you have known me—three?"
"Four, Molly—four next September."
"Well, four then. It isn't a long time. And you see it wasn't enough, to know me in, was it?"
He said nothing; but the fringe dropped from his fingers.