I mixed him a generous whisky and soda and asked what he wanted done. His face was haggard, and for a big man he seemed suddenly dried up and shrivelled.
"You must go round and talk to her," he said. "You've known her since she was a kid. Explain that I didn't mean what I said, apologize for me——"
I shook my head.
"It'll do no good," I said. "You're not to blame."
"But my dear fellow——!" he began excitedly, as though I had paid no attention to what he had told me.
"Look it in the face, Jim," I said, shaking my head again. "She's tired of you."
He picked up his tumbler and then put it down untasted.
"I don't believe it," he answered, with sublime simplicity.
"You've got to."
"But—but—but," he stammered. "We've never had a shadow of a disagreement until to-night."