"As you please, sir. I've no doubt that Mr. Peter Margerison will be equally happy to give you his valuable advice in the business. He is your counsellor in these matters, isn't he. An excellent adviser, of sound judgment and most disinterested honesty!"
He bowed to Peter, who took it as a dismissal, and said "Good night."
Denis, at the opposite side of the room, nodded in his casual way, neither hostile nor friendly, but gentle and indifferent. You couldn't make Denis seem angry, or hurt, or agitated in any way whatever. He had always the air of reserving his opinion; and he extremely disliked scenes. To be present at this one must have been painful to him. Peter, who knew him so well, knew that. He liked things to go easily and smoothly always. He had winced at the crash of glass on marble; it seemed to him in such bad taste. This, no doubt, was his attitude towards the whole business; towards the Magerisons' behaviour, Cheriton's exposure of it, and this final naked, shameful scene of accusation and confession.
Peter was realising this as he put on his coat in the hall, when the door he had shut behind him was opened, and steps followed him. He started and faced round, a hope leaping in his face. The swift dying of it left him rather pale.
Leslie said, "I'm coming too."
It was good of Leslie, thought Peter dully, and not caring in the least. He said, "No, stay and dine. Really, I'd like you to.... We'll talk to-morrow."
Leslie put on his overcoat and said to the footman, "Call a gondola," and the footman stood on the steps and cried "Poppe" till a poppe came; then they swung away down a rose-flushed water-street with the after-glow in their eyes.
Leslie was restful; he didn't bother one. He merely said, "We'll dine to-night at Luigi's."
It was not until they had done so, and were having coffee outside, that Peter said, "We'll have to leave Venice, of course, directly we can."
"You too?" said Leslie. "You go with them?"