'I know it isn't the correct thing for
dinner, but you've only yourself to blame.'
Henry continued to stare at him. 'I was quite right. Your brain is
unhinged, William. When I last saw you, you appeared fairly
normal--and now I come in and discover you arrayed like the lilies of
the field and kissing my wife.'
William gave a cry like a wounded animal. 'Your indictment is only too
true. Henry, it is terrible. I can never even hope for your
forgiveness for such a heinous offence. The only reparation I can make
is to go forth from your house, shake from my feet the dust of your
hospitable roof----'
'That metaphor's wrong, William,' I interposed.
'--and pass out of your lives for ever.'
'What on earth are you talking about, old chap?' inquired Henry.
'Have I not betrayed the trust you always reposed in me?'
'I wouldn't put it as strong as that,' replied Henry, eyeing him up and
down, 'though you certainly have made a bit of a guy of yourself. Who
created those trousers?'
'I--I--was not referring to my change of apparel, Henry, but to that
most unfortunate aberration on my part, when I was impelled by some
strange uncontrollable impulse to bestow a labial salute on your wife.
Heaven only knows that I----'
'As for that, I expect she egged you on,' calmly rejoined that horrid
Henry. 'I know her. You did flirt with him, didn't you, Netta?'
Before I could reply William sprang to his feet and placed himself
before me.
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