“What, pray, is it to do with you?” asked Ansell, fiercely. “She’s my wife, and I can speak to her. I can tell her what home-truths I like without your interference.”
“I should have deemed it more prudent to have said nothing, Ralph,” answered the other quietly.
Though Carlier was dressed also in a striped jacket and waistcoat and black trousers, he wore no collar, and looked even a greater blackguard than his friend.
His eyes met Jean’s, and in them he saw an expression of silent thanks for taking her part.
Then she turned and, covering her face with her hands, burst into bitter, blinding tears, and disappeared into the little kitchen.
“Sit down,” Ansell urged. “Now that little fool has gone, we can talk.”
“You are a perfect idiot,” declared the other, in disgust.
“That’s my affair. She’ll have to be brought to her senses and know the truth.”
“It has upset her.”