"Then you turned up ... and took it over ... got Miss Uniacke to help. Yes—I know all about that—The old lady told me herself.
"Jill was your friend before mine—and don't you think I ever forgot it!" his voice rose threateningly. "I stood aside and gave you your chance.
"You can't say that I've troubled you with much of my company these last weeks ... (McTaggart stirred impatiently). But I thought you meant the straight game."
"What the devil d'you mean by that?" The other's blue eyes were ablaze—"you'd better look out what you're saying..." He caught himself in hand again.
"Go on ... It's ... interesting."
Bethune needed no second bidding. Whipped by the sneer in McTaggart's voice, he turned on him savagely.
"That's just it—the difference! I'm not a Society man, thank God! and I don't understand Society ways—nor the lies they act all day long. But I do know what's fair to a woman. Any fool could have understood what your return meant to Jill..."
To his surprise McTaggart started. "I saw at once I hadn't a chance—not the ghost of one!" he caught his breath—"but I wanted—to see—Jill happy. Where I was wrong was I didn't know you..." He struck his fist on the table. "I thought you really meant business. I might have learned from the past"—his voice was full of grim disgust—"I ought to know your way with women! And it's not fair on a girl like Jill—she's out and away too fine for you—to marry a man like you, I mean—let alone mere flirtation. Why—what d'you suppose that Aunt thought? with you hanging around all day long. She fairly played into your hands—any ass could have seen that!"
"Have you quite finished?" said McTaggart. "Because, if so, I've a question to ask."
He spoke slowly, for his anger, past a certain phase, touched the danger mark at freezing point. He had reached it now.