“I know I am,” he admitted. “That’s the worst of it. I’m too deuced outspoken. Any other chap would have simply left her and ended it by letter. I, however, put the matter to her philosophically.”
“And how did she take it?”
His lips compressed for an instant as his eyes met mine.
“Badly,” he answered in a low voice. “Tears, protestations of love, and quite a scene. Fortunately we were alone together in the train. I got out with her at the Elephant and Castle, and took her home.”
“Did you see her father?”
“No. And don’t want to. He’s no good—the ugly old sinner.”
“Why?” I inquired quickly, wondering how much he knew.
But he evaded my question, answering—
“I mean he’s a sanguinary old idiot.”
“He idolises Lily.”