Gaymer was only impressed to the extent of hesitating for an instant; then he shewed himself more assured than ever:
“And, if your advice to her is worth a damn, you told her not to do that!”
“You don’t want to marry her, then?”
Gaymer first yawned and then frowned with a sudden irritability that suggested more that he wanted to end the interview than that he had lost his temper.
“Whether I want to or not is beside the point!” he exclaimed. “I’ve no money to marry on. She knows that. I don’t know from one day to another whether I’m going to be demobilized. I can’t marry on my pay.” He looked round with sensual appreciation of the simple warmth and softness of his quarters. “Far too fond of personal comfort for that. Have I satisfied your curiosity enough now?”
“No, you haven’t told me why you promised to marry her,” Eric persisted.
“Did I promise? I should be enormously interested to know why you say that.”
“Because she told me, and in this instance I believe her word in preference to yours. Why you promised to marry her—I needn’t bother you to tell me that. I suppose you found it a necessary formality.”
Eric waited for a denial, though he knew that it would tell him nothing. Guilty or innocent, Gaymer must now lose his temper in vehement earnest.
And yet no denial came.