"Oh," said he, "the Tenney woman. Jack needn't have dragged you into that. It's a dirty country story."
"Not dirty," said Nan. "You'd love it if you'd thought of it yourself. You'd write a play about it."
Dick frowned.
"Well, I didn't think of it," said he, "and if I had, I shouldn't be eating and sleeping it as you and Jack are. Whatever's happening up there, it isn't our hunt. It's hers, the woman's. Or the authorities'. The man ought to be shut up."
Nan began telling him how it all was, how they wanted definitely to do the right thing and how Tira herself blocked them. Dick listened, commended the drama of it, and yet found it drama only.
"But it's a beastly shame," he commented, "to have this come on Jack just now when he isn't fit."
Nan had her sudden hot angers.
"Do you mean to tell me," she countered, "you believe that now, now you've lived with him and seen he's exactly what he used to be, only more darling—you believe he's broken, dotty? Heavens! I don't know what you'd call it."
Dick did not answer. He scarcely heard. One word only hit him like a shot and drew blood.
"Stop that!" he ordered.