"I've been spied upon. Jealousy, sir"
Roland paused for a moment on the stairs.
"Look here, Buck, you can wait till we are in my room. There has been quite enough noise. People want to sleep."
The lights were on in Mr. Roland's sitting-room, and on seeing the glass bulbs all aglow Buck's blue eyes became illuminated from within. Behind him Sorrell had closed the door, and was leaning against it, still holding his poker. Roland was rummaging for a cigarette.
"So it was you—you—who gave me away."
Roland turned sharply.
"Buck, I don't want a scene. Don't be a fool."
"I was just telling a rat, sir"
"Sorrell had nothing to do with it. You have no one to thank but yourself. You will go to-morrow, after breakfast."
The big man seemed to hang there like a red sun, hesitating between a glare of rage and a fog of servility. He could not bring himself to look at Sorrell. His neck, with its roll of fat, had a purplish tinge. He glowed. Like most common men he took refuge in sentimentality. "Do the gentleman behind his back,—but slobber him up in the public."
"And I saved your life, sir."
Roland was looking at him through a little cloud of cigarette smoke.
"You did. That's why I offered you this place. I never expect gratitude. Sportsmanship's better is"
"Gratitoode!"
He extended a fat hand.
"Chucking me out—because I'm made like a man, not like that parsnip there. I'm no angel; don't pretend to it."
"Nor am I,—Buck. But then is"
"Because a girl—a hot little bit. Why, it's human nature. To hell with"
"Buck," said Roland, interrupting him with that deliberate voice of his, "I'm not quarrelling with your morals. Sex is nature. It's no more immoral to go with a woman than to eat your dinner—provided"
Buck tried to speak, but Roland had not finished.
"Provided—you don't hurt anybody. There's the woman
