“And you’ve both been as innocent as—as you were guilty.”
“Look here, Peter, I can’t make you understand, because you’ve—you’ve never been on a honeymoon. Really, old fellow, I was so happy over your generosity in giving me a full share, when I didn’t bring a tenth of the business, and so happy over Dorothy, that If I hadn’t told her, I should have simply—bust. She swore she’d never tell. And now she’s told you!”
“No, but she told some one else.”
“Never!”
“Yes.”
“Then she’s broken her word. She—”
“The Pot called the Kettle black.”
“But to tell one’s own wife is different. I thought she could keep a secret.”
“How can you expect a person to keep a secret when you can’t keep it yourself?” Peter and Ray were both laughing.
Ray said to himself, “Peter has some awfully knotty point on hand, and is resting the brain tissue for a moment.” Ray had noticed, when Peter interrupted him during office hours, on matters not relating to business, that he had a big or complex question in hand.