Oscar did not complete his sentence, and Sheila said quickly—
“Isn’t it better for them to know the truth?”
“But perhaps it isn’t really the truth,” said Oscar, “I am not sure that a man should be judged for what he does in a time of panic——”
“No, but the lie afterwards——”
“Yes, that was bad; but think of the temptation to make some excuse for himself! Do you know I can fancy being tempted to it. He had always been thought so much of at home and in the town. To be branded as a coward! It would be almost unendurable.”
Sheila was silent; she felt that Cyril deserved the brand, and her youthful clearness of judgment made compromise difficult.
“Well, I won’t say anything if you don’t think I ought, but I can never like Cyril again. I shall always despise him.”
“We must not despise one another more than we can help,” said Oscar soberly. “You know, Sheila, we have so many faults ourselves. We ought to try and think of that.”
Sheila was accustomed to defer to Oscar’s judgment, and she was kindly by nature, though frank and candid. She did not see much good in hushing things up, but she promised not to speak herself of what the fireman had said. She rather hoped it would come out to some of the rest; she did not think that North would be easily deceived. He had been very indignant about Cyril’s conduct.