“Well, Naps? What does this mean?”
Iris cried: “Napier!” Then she turned passionately to Venice. “Don’t you see, Venice! He doesn’t know what he’s saying!”
“It means, sir,” Napier said quietly, “that if you weren’t my father I would call you a cad.”
“Don’t!” Hilary snapped. “Hm. Run away now, all of you. Together or separate. Just run away.”
Iris pulled at Napier’s arm. He did not see her. He said very quietly, his voice imperceptibly trembling: “Venice and I called after dinner at Montpellier Square. Venice wished to say good-bye to Iris. What is between Iris and Venice is their business. They make me feel a lout, they make you look like.... We found Mrs. Oden upset. She said Iris had come here, and....” His voice broke, and he passed a hand over his mouth as though to steady it. He scowled.
Venice, still by the window, was wearing a leathercoat like Iris’s, but it looked much newer and lighter. She had her hands dug deep into the pockets. Iris cried: “Venice, for pity’s sake help me make Napier come away! Oh, you don’t understand! He’s no idea what he’s saying!”
For the first time Napier took his eyes from his father. His mouth twitched funnily, and he scowled. “Yes, I have, Iris. But I want to clear up this business once and for all. It’s gone on long enough, this—this Boy Fenwick business. What?”
“But, Napier, you promised!”
He scowled. “I don’t care, Iris. I’m awfully tired of all these pretences. It can’t ... it can’t go on, this slandering of you. It can’t. I can’t bear it. And the first thing I hear as I come into this room is my father chucking that slime at you—-”
“Napier, don’t you see that it’s me you hurt, not them! You hurt me deeply, Napier. Listen to me, my dear, listen!”