Lettice sat lost in thought.
"The question is—does he care for her now?" Bertha went on.
"Bertha, I almost think he does."
"You don't imagine that he has taken to somebody else?"
"No."
Bertha saw that a certain conjecture in her own mind had not so much as penetrated into Lettice's thoughts; the idea of Mr. Kelly in connection with herself was non-existent.
"No," she repeated; "certainly nobody that I have come across. I don't know most of Mr. Kelly's friends, of course. But now that I think of it, I have noticed how he talks of Prue. I thought it was because she is such a friend of mine, only—"
"Men are not so accommodating. They don't understand the force of female friendships."
"But if he does care, why should he not speak?"
"Ah, there it is! He may not be sure of his own mind—he may still less be sure of Prue's mind. That self-restrained manner of hers is not easy to read. At all events, you know now how things stand."