I did not reply to this. After all, had Harris been much more to blame than I had been in the first instance?
“Well,” said Hawkesbury, “I hope it will soon blow over. One never likes unpleasant things like this coming up. You must tell Smith how angry I am with Harris.”
“I don’t suppose Smith will ever speak to me again,” I said.
“Really? Oh, I hope it’s not so bad as that. After all, you know,” said Hawkesbury, “it would have been much more straightforward of him to tell the fellows what he was at first. They don’t like being taken by surprise in a matter like this. I really don’t see that he has so much to complain of.”
“But it was so low of Harris to fling it in his teeth like that,” I said.
“Well, yes, it was,” said Hawkesbury; “but it was not as bad as if he had said something about him that wasn’t true. Well, good-night, Batchelor. I hope it will be all right in time.”
I was not much comforted by this conversation; and yet I was not altogether displeased to find that Hawkesbury agreed with me in condemning Harris’s conduct, and his last argument, though it took away nothing from my unkindness, certainly did strike me. However unpleasant and cruel Jack’s treatment had been, one must remember that the story told about him was true. Yes, it was a great consolation to feel that, whatever else had happened, no one had told a lie!
As I passed the top of Style Street, meditating on these things, I became aware that Billy was striding across my path with a face full of grimy concern.
“I say, master,” he cried, “where’s t’other bloke?”
“I don’t know,” I said, walking on.