“When did he first insult you?”
“Two days ago.”
“But you knew what he meant before that?”
“No, I didn’t. I knew he admired me—and I thought it rather amusing; but I never dreamed he would dare. And then, when he did dare, I thought if you heard or guessed it would be too dreadful. I blamed myself—yes, I blamed myself. But I thought it was only two days, and then he’d be gone for ever—with no fuss and no scandal. My darling, don’t you believe me?”
“Is there nothing else to tell?”
The General was glaring down into his wife’s eyes.
“Before God, that is all. Oh, don’t you believe me?”
“Before God, I do.”
Very gently Sir John released himself from the clinging hands, held one of them for a moment; then, bowing ceremoniously, kissed it.
“Mr. Ridsdale!” His manner was perfectly calm as he turned to the ignored guest, and he spoke quietly but heavily, with an old-fashioned style of humour that was too pompous to be quite successful. “My wife called you a coward just now; but, honestly, I could not apologise if she had called you a fool as well. Those are blank cartridges that we have been playing with. Oh, yes, it would have been dangerous otherwise. But I’m always careful. In fact, when I have to deal with gentlemen of your kidney, I’m almost as afraid of firearms as you are yourself. And, à propos, the hall door is open I didn’t really lock it.”