"
"We can't talk in the street at this time of night, with snow coming
down. Suppose we go up to your room?"
"As you please. But I advise you to talk quietly; the walls and the
floors are not over thick."
The latch-key admitted them, and they went as softly as possible up
the stairs, only one involuntary kick from Greenacre on sounding
wood causing his host to mutter a malediction. By a light in the
bedroom they viewed each other, and Greenacre showed astonishment.
"So you _are_ drunk, or have been You've got a black eye, and your
clothes are all pulled about. You've been in a row."
"You're not far wrong. Tell' me what you've been doing, and you
shall hear where the row was and who was with me."
"Gammon, you've been behaving like a cad--a scoundrel. I didn't
think it of you. You went to that place in Sloane Street. No use
lying; I've been told you were there. You must have found out I was
going away, and you've played old Harry. I didn't think you were a
fellow of that sort; I had more faith in you."
Upon mutual recrimination followed an exchange of narratives.
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