"Mr. Rath and I were talking about that last evening," said Madeleine, the color coming into her face a little. "Do you know, he's really a very dear man. He's awfully nice."
Jane jumped up to drive a wasp out of the window. "You know him better than I do," she said, very busy.
"I've known him for several years, but never as well as here."
Jane came back and sat down. Madeleine was silent, seeming to search for words.
"You were going to tell me a secret," her friend said, after a little.
"I know, but I—I can't."
Jane lifted her eyes almost pitifully. "Why not?"
"I don't feel that I have the right, after all. Secrets are such precious things."
"If I can help you—?"
"Oh, no, no.—It isn't any trouble. It's something quite different—I—I thought that perhaps I could tell you my thoughts, but—I can't."