The scorn was really for himself, and I
could well understand it. Nay, I was glad to have something to forgive
in the beginning, I with my unforgivable mission, and would have laughed
the matter off without another word if Bob had let me.
"I'm a bit raw on the point," said he, taking my arm for a last turn,
"and that's the truth. There was a fellow who came out with me, quite a
good chap really, and a tremendous pal of mine at Eton, yet he behaved
like a lunatic about this very thing. Poor chap, he reads like anything,
and I suppose he'd been overdoing it, for he actually asked me to choose
between Mrs. Lascelles and himself! What could a fellow do but let the
poor old simpleton go? They seem to think you can't be pals with a woman
without wanting to make love to her. Such utter rot! I confess I lose my
hair with them; but that doesn't excuse me in the least for losing it
with you."
I assured him, on the other hand, that his very natural irritability on
the subject made all the difference in the world. "But whom," I added,
"do you mean by 'them'? Not anybody else in the hotel?"
"Good heavens, no!" cried Bob, finding a fair target for his scorn at
last. "Do you think I care twopence what's said or thought by people I
never saw in my life before and am never likely to see again? I know how
I'm behaving.
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