CHAPTER VIIIThe numbness lasted through his interview with James Paradine. It was not a long one. He had, in fact, made an excuse of it. James was neither expecting him nor desirous of keeping him. He sat grim and sarcastic at his writing-table and said,
‘Come to confess, have you? Go away! I’m busy, or I’d tell you just what a fool I think you are.’
‘Thank you, sir—Lydia has been telling me that.’
‘She’s too free with her tongue. Wants a husband who’ll keep her in order. Richard won’t. But I’m talking about you. You’re a fool to come visiting me tonight. It’s compromising, that’s what it is—damned compromising.’ He gave a short, hard laugh. ‘If anyone saw you, your character’s gone. They’ll be sure you came to confess.’
‘To what?’
‘Folly of some kind,’ said James Paradine. ‘There are
