I checked him. “You're very generous, my dear boy,” said I, “but you'll do me a favour by letting folks believe what they like.” And then I explained, as delicately as I could, how his sudden championship could be of little advantage to me, and might do him considerable harm.
In his impetuous manner he cut short my carefully-expressed argument.
“Rubbish! Heaps of people I know are already convinced that I was keeping Lola Brandt and that you took her from me in the ordinary vulgar way—”
“Yes, yes,” I interrupted, shrinking. “That's why I order you, in God's name, to leave the whole thing alone.”
“But confound it, man! I've come out of it all right, why shouldn't you? Even supposing Lola was a loose woman—”
I threw up my hand. “Stop!”
He looked disconcerted for a moment.
“We know she isn't, but for the sake of argument—”
“Don't argue,” said I. “Let us drop it.”
“But hang it all!” he shouted in desperation. “Can't I do something! Can't I go and kick somebody?”