"What of it?"
"Nothing."
"That is just it; there was nothing in it."
"Except her reputation.... What a silly and careless girl! But a man doesn't think—doesn't care very much I fancy. And then everybody was offensively sorry for Chester Ledwith. But that was not your lookout, was it, Langly?"
Sprowl turned his narrow face and looked at her in silence; and after a moment misjudged her.
"It was not my fault," he said quietly. "I liked his wife and I was friendly with him until his gutter habits annoyed me."
"He went to pieces, didn't he?"
Once more Sprowl inspected her features, warily. Once more he misjudged her.
"He's gone to smash," he said—"but what's that to us?"
"I wonder," she smiled, but had to control the tremor of her lower lip by catching it between her teeth and looking away from the man beside her. Quickly the hint of tears dried out in her gray eyes—from whatever cause they sprang glimmering there to dim her eyesight. She bent her head, absently arranging, rearranging and shifting her bridle.