Chapter 8
The little party of late diners passed on their way to the
further end of the room, leaving a wave of artificiality behind, or
was it, Andrew Wilmore wondered, in a moment of half-dazed
speculation, that it was they and the rest of the gay company who
represented the real things, and he and his companion who were
playing a sombre part in some unreal and gloomier world. Francis’
voice, however, when he recommenced his diatribe, was calm and
matter-of-fact enough.
“You see,” he continued, argumentatively, “I was morally and
actually responsible for the man’s being brought back into Society.
And far worse than that, I was responsible for his being thrust
back again upon his wife. Ergo, I was also responsible for what she
did that night. The matter seems as plain as a pi
