“I’m fond of her still.”
“Nothing more?”
Gaymer impatiently broke three matches before he could light his cigarette.
“What more d’you want?,” he asked petulantly.
“Well, does she or any woman mean enough to you to make you want to be a decent member of society?... That’s your fourth brandy! Yes, I know you spilt one... That’s why I said you weren’t fit to marry yet. Would you knock off drink and give up hanging about with every other woman you see and start in to earn a decent living?”
A patter of light feet and a rustle of clothes heralded Sonia’s return. She hurried to the writing-table, kissing her husband on the way, rummaged among a litter of papers and hurried out again, leaving the same faint fragrance of violets as a provocative reminder of her presence.
“I’m rather out of favour at present,” said Gaymer, as he stood up and began to inspect the room with critical envy.
“There are other women in the world. This one’s much too much of a child for you.”
“I’m not so sure. I’d do a lot for—for a woman I loved. Oh, I’d be the complete reformed character,” he added with a laugh that was a contemptuous antidote to his sincerity of a moment before.
“Well, I’m glad to see that you have one vulnerable spot... It’s time to pull up.”