Then Peggy, realizing what had happened, wheeled round and stared tragically at Doggie, who, preoccupied with the search for her, had not removed his cap. He drew himself up.
“I beg your pardon,” he said with imperturbable irony, and turned.
Oliver rushed across the room.
“Stop, you silly fool!”
He slammed the open door, caught Doggie by the arm and dragged him away from the threshold. His blue eyes blazed and the lips beneath the short-cropped moustache quivered.
“It’s all my fault, Doggie. I’m a beast and a cad and anything you like to call me. But for things you said last night—well—no, hang it all, there’s no excuse. Everything’s on me. Peggy’s as true as gold.”
Peggy, red-eyed, pale-cheeked, stood a little way back, silent, on the defensive. Doggie, looking from one to the other, said quietly:
“A triangular explanation is scarcely decent. Perhaps you might let me have a word or two with Peggy.”
“Yes. It would be best,” she whispered.
“I’ll be in the dining-room if you want me,” said Oliver, and went out.