Henry's ears were scarlet now.
Humphrey, his soup turning cold between his elbows, looked steadily at his deeply unhappy friend.
For a moment longer Henry went on eating. But then he quietly laid down his spoon, sank rather limply back in his chair, and wanly met Humphrey's gaze.
'There was a moment this morning, Hen, when I could have wrung your neck. A moment.'
Henry's voice was colourless. His expression was that of a man who has absorbed his maximum of punishment, to whom nothing more matters much. 'What is it?' he asked. 'What happened?'
'Madame Stelton fell in the Chicago station, hurrying for the train, and sprained her ankle. Miss Doag gave the entire programme.'
Henry sat a little time considering this. Finally he raised his eyes.
'Hump,' he said, 'I don't know that I'm sorry. I'm rather glad you caught me, I think.'
It was a difficult speech to meet. Humphrey even found it a moving speech.
'You had an unlucky day,' he said.