"Yes. They say the other girl is somewhere on the river. A girl with striking looks. No doubt that's the attraction, though I have never seen any looks in these parts."
"What!" said Selwyn, this time coming down from the flies and scowling.
"Yes, pretty sickening thing to hear. I am very sorry for Neville's girl. Charming girl. There seems no doubt about it. I've had it from half-a-dozen sources since. Moreover the girl's father was here a day or two back. Drinking pretty freely. I happened to be there, and he said a good deal more than I liked listening to. He mentioned other names; but it's as well to let them be. Nasty story. Yes, nasty story."
"Man, it can't be true." Selwyn exclaimed at last.
"'Fraid so."
"Damn it, how beastly!"
"Yes. Fair shocker."
They talked together in the stale room for some time until Selwyn grown desperate, rose firmly to his feet. "Well, must be getting back. Have a bit of business to do. Enjoyed our chat. Suppose we shall run across each other again pretty soon."
Selwyn continued to move firmly towards the door. Mr. Horrington rose also. He blinked. He swept the edge of his drooping moustache with his tongue lest a spare drop of whisky remained. He looked longingly but unprofitably at the row of bottles on the shelves. Lastly he picked up his stick as Selwyn had picked up his. They went outside into the sun. Scabbyback and Gripper rose from a small island of shade, and Gripper trotted forward very ready for the start. At the hotel entrance they said good-bye. They said it soon—Selwyn lifting his stick jauntily in the air, and Mr. Horrington blinking reply.