Goodhue gave him his hat. He took it but drew away from the other's touch on his arm.
"Don't think I'm not all right," he said in a frightened voice. "Took me by surprise, but I'm all right—quite all right. Going home."
He glanced at Lambert and again at George, then left the room, pulling at his necktie, Goodhue anxiously at his heels.
"What about it?" Lambert asked George sharply.
George sat down, still trying to rid himself of the black souvenirs of the encounter.
"Don't be a fool. I said nothing about your sister—nothing whatever."
He couldn't get rid of Dalrymple's begging eyes, yet why should he spare him at all?
"The rest of it," he went on, easily, "is between Dalrymple and me."
"I'm not sure," Lambert challenged.
He reminded George of the younger Lambert who had advanced with a whip in his hand.