"Mr. Reed Opdyke," she said.
Kathryn ignored the rebuke completely.
"How is Reed?" she queried.
Then Olive gave it up, and left her to her chosen methods.
"About the same."
"Isn't there anything I can do for him yet?" Kathryn inquired, with an abrupt letting down of her terse dignity. "It does seem a shame I can't do something to help the poor fellow along, especially when it is so many years that I have known him. It's not as if he were a mere acquaintance, of course, and I want him to feel quite at liberty to send for me, whenever he wants me."
"I am sure he does, Mrs. Brenton," Olive assured her, with gentle malice, for not in vain was "the poor fellow" phrase rankling in her mind.
"Then why in the world doesn't he send?" Kathryn asked rather injudiciously.
Olive dodged the only direct answer she could have made.
"Perhaps he shrinks a little—" she was starting.