“I apologise,” he said savagely. “I didn’t know that––the––lady––Mellowes had married––the lady.”
His tone added that even now he did not believe it; he edged away to the door and disappeared.
Micky dropped into a chair; he looked thoroughly done up. Some one pushed a glass of whisky across to him. There was an uncomfortable silence. Perhaps they were all feeling guilty; perhaps they all remembered with what relish they had listened to this spicy bit of scandal.
“Never could stand Ashton,” some one said presently, in gruff abasement. “Worm––the man is!––perfect outsider!”
There were several grunts of assent; the sympathy was decidedly with Micky.
After a moment he rose to his feet.
“I suppose an apology is due from me too,” he said; he spoke with difficulty. “But I think any of you––in the same circumstances–––”
He waited a moment.
“Quite right––certainly.... Should have done the same myself.”