was so shy he could hardly bring himself to, and yet the time was passing and the opportunity would be lost. It was best to get at the truth at once. He forced himself to speak.
"Are you in love with Mildred?" he asked suddenly.
"I?" Griffiths laughed. "Is that what you've been so funny about this evening? Of course not. My dear old man."
He tried to slip his hand through Philip's arm, but Philip drew himself away. He knew Griffiths was lying. He could not bring himself to force Griffiths to tell him that he had not been holding the girl's hand. He suddenly felt very weak and broken.
"It doesn't matter to you, Harry," he said. "You've got so many women-don't take her away from me. It means my whole life. I've been so awfully wretched."
His voice broke, and he could not prevent the sob that was torn from him. He was horribly ashamed of himself.
"My dear old boy, you know I wouldn't do anything to hurt you. I'm far too fond of you for that. I was only playing the fool. If I'd known you were going to take it like that I'd have been more careful."
"Is that true?" asked Philip.
"I don't care a twopenny damn for her. I give you my word of honour."
Philip gave a sigh of relief. The cab stopped at their door.
