"You say what you've got to say. I'll tell you what I think by and by."
"I've no choice. I'm driven to it, can't escape it; it's my handicap. I want you to look at it for a moment from my end. What's the very first thing I've got to do? To lie about my name. I must lie, knowing perfectly well that a day, a week or a month or two at the outside will see me caught out and shown the door. Never mind other instances; let's stick to that one; the rest are just the same, only a good deal worse, some of 'em. Now here's the point. Do you suppose I should put my head into a noose like that unless I was perfectly sure that I'd finished sliding, was well dug in, and had a fairly reasonable prospect of presently going straight ahead like anybody else?"
But I had no intention of going over that ground again. My foolish excited hope that he might "pull it off" had been scattered to the winds by the events of that afternoon. As far as he himself was concerned I wished him all the best that could happen to him, but it was not a chance that the happiness and safety of the daughter of my friends could be risked upon. Let him start to go forward first; let us have some assurance that the ghastly business was all over; then would be time enough to talk about the rest.
"We've had all that," I interrupted him.
"We haven't, George," he said earnestly. "You don't know. You can't possibly know. You've no idea of the care—the tests——"
"If it comes off all right nobody will rejoice more than I shall, Derry. What's between us at the moment is what happened this afternoon."
Instantly I was conscious of his hardening. But he did not become granite all at once.
"That can't be dragged in."
"'Dragged in'!"
"Can't you accept the situation, George?"