“What explanation is to be given her?”
“I 'll write the necessary fairy-story.”
“You are not going to see her before you sail?”
“No,” said Risca.
“Then you 'll be doing a damnably cowardly thing,” cried Herold, with flashing eyes.
Risca rose and glared at his friend.
“You fool! Do you suppose I don't care for her? Do you suppose I would n't cut off my hand to save her pain?”
“Then cut off some of your infernal selfishness and save her the pain she's going to feel if you don't bid her good-bye.”
Risca clenched his fists, and turned to the window, and stood with his back to the room.
“Take care what you 're saying. It 's dangerous to quarrel with me to-day.”