“If you don’t know, I’ll ask you to find out.”
The other shook his head amusedly, at which McNamara flared up.
“I say you will, and you’ll make your wife apologize before she leaves this hall, too, or you’ll answer to me, man to man. I won’t stand to have a girl like Miss Chester cold-decked by a bunch of mining-camp swells, and that goes as it lies.” In his excitement, McNamara reverted to his Western idiom.
The other did not reply at once, for it is embarrassing to deal with a person who disregards the conventions utterly, and at the same time has the inclination and force to compel obedience. The boss’s reputation had gone abroad.
“Well—er—I know about it in a general way, but of course I don’t go much on such things. You’d better let it drop.”
“Go on.”
“There has been a lot of talk among the ladies about—well, er—the fact is, it’s that young Glenister. Mrs. Champian had the next state-room to them—er—him—I should say—on the way up from the States, and she saw things. Now, as far as I’m concerned, a girl can do what she pleases, but Mrs. Champian has her own ideas of propriety. From what my wife could learn, there’s some truth in the story, too, so you can’t blame her.”
With a word McNamara could have explained the gossip and made this man put his wife right, forcing through her an elucidation of the silly affair in such a way as to spare Helen’s feelings and cover the busy-tongued magpies with confusion. Yet he hesitated. It is a wise skipper who trims his sails to every breeze. He thanked his informant and left him. Entering the lobby, he saw the girl hurrying towards him.
“Take me away, quick! I want to go home.”
“You’ve changed your mind?”