The little party of late diners passed on their way to the further end of the room, leaving a wave of artificiality behind, or was it, Andrew Wilmore wondered, in a moment of half-dazed speculation, that it was they and the rest of the gay company who represented the real things, and he and his companion who were playing a sombre part in some unreal and gloomier world.

Francis' voice, however, when he recommenced his diatribe, was calm and matter-of-fact enough.
"You see," he continued, argumentatively, "I was morally and actually responsible for the man's being brought back into Society.

And far worse than that, I was responsible for his being thrust back again upon his wife.

Ergo, I was also responsible for what she did that night.

The matter seems as plain as a pikestaff to me.