Something unpardonable is laid to my charge. Nobody ever called me John, that I recollect. “I liked him, and I never undeceived him. She could not say who, not yet. Set yourself to find it out, if you will—but if you do, never dare to call yourself my friend again. My nerves were in rags. I am sure that he can be got rid of. And yet—he thought of the supper party where he had met Annabel Pellissier, the stories about her, his own few minutes’ whispered lovemaking! He was a self-contained young man, but his cheeks grew hot at the thought of the things which it had seemed quite natural to say to her then, but which he knew very well would have been instantly resented by the girl whom he had just left.
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