“I was. Well, I,” he began, and then “You,” and stopped, and then he began again. “I said that it would be--difficult--for me to explain matters to you fully, Oliver; I find it to be--even more difficult than I had supposed. I--it is rather hard for a man of my age to defend his manner of life to one of your age, even when he himself is wholly convinced that that manner is not---unrighteous. And in this particular case, to one of his son's best friends.” He twisted his fingers around the rim of his glass. Oliver started to speak but Mr. Piper put up his hand. “No--please--it will be so much easier if I finish what I have to say first,” he said rather pleadingly. “Well--the situation here between Rose and myself--must be plain to you now.” Oliver nodded, he hoped in not too knowing a way. “Plain. How that situation arose--is another matter. And a matter that would take a good deal too long to tell. Except that, given the premises from which we set forth--what followed was perhaps as inevitable as most things are in life. “That situation has been known to no other person on earth but ourselves--all these years. And now it is known. Well, Oliver, there you have it. And you happen to have us also--entirely in your hands. Because of a spying, greedy servant--and my own stupidity and distrust--we have been completely found out. And by one of my son's best friends. “I wish that I could apologize for--all the scene before this. Better. I hope that you will believe that I am trying to do so now. But I seldom make apologies, Oliver, even when I am evidently in the wrong--and this hasn't been one of my easiest to make. And now.” He sat back and waited, his fingers curled round his glass. And, as he looked at him, Oliver felt a little sickish, for, on the whole, he respected Mr. Piper a good deal more than his irreverent habit of mind permitted him to respect most older people, and at the same time felt pitifully sorry for him--it must be intensely humiliating to have to explain this way--and yet the only thing Oliver could do was to take the largest advantage possible of his very humiliation and straightforwardness--the truth could still do nothing at all but wreck everybody concerned. “I give you my word of honor, Mr. Piper, to keep everything I know entirely and completely secret,” said Oliver, slowly, trying to make the large words seem as little magniloquent as possible. “That's all I can say, I guess--but it's true--you can really depend on it.” “Thank you,” said Mr. Piper quite simply. “I believe you, Oliver,” and again Oliver felt that little burn of shame in his mind.