“No.”
“You weren’t?”
He spoke quickly, with a sort of relief, hesitated then added sardonically:
“But of course you know—and much worse than the worst. The art of conversation isn’t dead yet, whatever the—perhaps you saw me being got out?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“But you do know?”
“Naturally.”
“I say, I wish you’d let me have—”
He checked himself abruptly, and muttered:
“Good God! What a brute I am.”