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Finally
he went out into a gallery running along the various rooms, and, opening
a door, put his head in.
"You hypocritical scoundrel," he said. "You swore to me that you would
never tell a living soul."
"Well?" came a very guilty voice back.
"And Dorothy's known all this time."
Dead silence.
"And you've both been as innocent as--as you were guilty."
"Look here, Peter, I can't make you understand, because you've--you've
never been on a honeymoon. Really, old fellow, I was so happy over your
generosity in giving me a full share, when I didn't bring a tenth of the
business, and so happy over Dorothy, that If I hadn't told her, I should
have simply--bust. She swore she'd never tell. And now she's told you!"
"No, but she told some one else."
"Never!"
"Yes."
"Then she's broken her word. She--"
"The Pot called the Kettle black."
"But to tell one's own wife is different. I thought she could keep a
secret."
"How can you expect a person to keep a secret when you can't keep it
yourself?" Peter and Ray were both laughing.


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