"Before you go, gentlemen," he said, "there is something I have to say to you—something you have to answer to me. I have known you all for years—you have all known me. You owe me, I think, for the sake of our friendship—our past friendship, I expect you would wish me to say—an explanation of your conduct to me lately." He paused. Only one man spoke.
"Our conduct, Edward?" he said awkwardly; "what on earth is wrong with our conduct to you lately?"
Edward turned upon him bitterly.
"Don't pretend you don't know what I mean," he said; "out with it, some of you! What have I done?"
The men moved uneasily. Some one muttered, "That is no way to speak."
Edward lowered his voice at the rebuke; he spoke more gently, but held his position at the door.
"No one leaves the room till I know my fault. Why have you thrust me from you without even the justice of knowing what I have done? If I cared for your friendship less, I would not trouble you to ask; but you were my friends, my only companions: if I lose
