.. but I shall not mention it.
FARRANT. Oh, I'm afraid my wife knows. [_He adds hastily._] My fault ... my
fault entirely.
BLACKBOROUGH. I tell you Rumour's electric.
HORSHAM _has turned to_ FARRANT _with a sweet smile and with the air
of a man about to be relieved of all responsibility._
HORSHAM. What does she say?
FARRANT. [_As one speaks of a nice woman._] She was horrified.
HORSHAM. Of course. [_Once more he finds refuge and comfort on the
hearthrug, to say, after a moment, with fine resignation._] I suppose I must
let him go.
CANTELUPE. [_On his feet again._] Cyril!
HORSHAM. Yes, Charles?
_With this query he turns an accusing eye on_ CANTELUPE, _who is
silenced._
BLACKBOROUGH. Have you made up your mind to that?
FARRANT. [_In great distress._] You're wrong, Horsham. [_Then in greater._]
That is ... I think you're wrong.
HORSHAM. I'd sooner not let him know to-night.
BLACKBOROUGH. But he asked you to.
HORSHAM. [_All show of resistance gone._] Did he? Then I suppose I must.
[_He sighs deeply._]
BLACKBOROUGH. Then I'll get back to Aylesbury.
_He picks up his motor-cap from the table and settles it on his head
with immense aplomb._
HORSHAM. So late?
BLACKBOROUGH. Really one can get along quicker at night if one knows the
road. You're in town, aren't you, Farrant? Shall I drop you at Grosvenor
Square?
FARRANT.
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