It was on Thor's tongue to say, "It would have done the good of not telling lies," but he suppressed that. One of his objects was to be conciliating. He had other objects, which he believed would be best served by taking a small chair and sitting on it astride, close to Claude's bed. An easy, fraternal air was maintained by the effect of the pipe still hanging by its curved stem from the corner of his mouth. He began to think highly of himself as a comedian.
"I wish you had told me," he said, quietly, "because I could have helped you."
Claude lay still. His eyes grew brilliant. "Helped me—how?"
"Helped you in whatever it is you're trying to do." He added, with significance, "You are trying to do something, aren't you?"
Claude endeavored to gain time by saying, "Trying to do what?"
"You're—" Thor hesitated, but dashed in. "You're in love with her?"
It was still to gain time that Claude replied, "What do you think?"
Thor's heart bounded with a great hope. Perhaps Claude was not in love with her. He had not been noticeably moved as yet. In that case it might be possible—barely possible—that after Rosie had outlived her disappointment there might be a chance that he.... But he dared not speculate. Mustering everything that was histrionic within him, he said, with the art that conceals art, "I think you are—decidedly."
Claude rolled partly over in bed. "That's about it."
The confession was as full as one brother could expect from another. Thor's heart sank again. He managed, however, to keep on the high plane of art as he brought out the words, "And what about her?"