Micky smiled faintly.
“And I am sure you won’t let this go any further––for––for my wife’s sake,” he added.
They pressed round him, shaking him by the hand and reassuring him. Micky took it for what it was worth. He knew that those of them who were married men would go straight home and tell their wives of the scene at Hoopers’, and he knew how speedily the story would spread.
He got away as soon as he could and left the house.
He never gave Marie another thought, till he found himself out in the street and walking away through the fresh spring night.
He took off his hat and let the air blow on his hot forehead; his hand still trembled with excitement.
He tried to think, but his thoughts would not come clearly. When he got back to his rooms he asked Driver 287 for a stiff brandy. The man looked at his master diffidently, and asked if anything were the matter.
Micky laughed.
“Why? Do I look as if there is?” He glanced at himself in the mirror. His face was very white.
“No, there’s nothing the matter. I’m tired, that’s all.”