"I've made a beastly fool of myself, Jimmie."
"Not a bit of it, old chap. Brace up; some one is coming." He had heard a cab stop in the street.
There were rapid steps on the stairs, and Nevill entered the studio. His face was eloquent with sympathy, and he silently held out a hand. Jack gripped it tightly.
"Thanks, Vic," he said, gratefully. "Where did—did you take her?"
"To her lodgings, off Regent street. And then I came straight on here. I thought she was dead, Jack. I don't wonder you're upset."
"Upset? It's worse than that. If I were the only one to suffer—"
"Then there's another woman?"
"Yes!"
"That's bad! I didn't dream of such a thing. I can't tell you how sorry I feel."
Nevill sat down and lighted a cigar; he thoughtfully watched the smoke curl up.