George sat for a long while in silence, looking at the glowing coals in the huge reservoir stove. Neither Perry nor I cared to interrupt his revery. At last he roused himself.
"Well, boys," he said, "it is late: I think we had better go. It is all over now, and life has gone on calmly for years. Other people have forgotten that there ever were such persons as Phil or Herbert."
When Perry and I reached our room we found it was almost three o'clock. George had walked with us to the door, and very little had been said between us. I took a cigarette and lay down on the bed. "Perry," I said, as he was lighting the gas.
"Sur to you," he answered, in a way he had of imitating a certain barkeeper of our acquaintance.
"What do you think of George?"
"You know what I think of him as well as I do."
"Yes; but I mean in connection with this that he has told us."
"I think he acted just like himself all the way through."
"Don't you think he has been in love with Mrs. Herbert from the first?"
"Am I in the habit of imagining such nonsense?"