“Ask Sanford.”
“Oh—if you don’t want to tell me.”
Eunice looked provokingly pretty and her piquant face showed a petulant expression as she turned it to Hendricks.
“Smile on me again and I’ll tell you anything you want to know: if I know it myself.”
A dazzling smile answered this speech, and Hendricks’ gaze softened as he watched her.
“But you’ll have to ask me something else, for, alas, the brothers Meredith haven’t made a confidant of me.”
“Story-teller” and Eunice’s dark eyes assumed the look of a roguish little girl. “You can’t fool me, Alvord; now tell me, and I’ll invite you in to tea when we get home.”
“I’m going in, anyway.”
“Not unless you tell me what I ask. Why won’t you? Is it a secret? Pooh! I’d just as lief ask Mr. Tom Meredith myself, if I could see him. Never mind, don’t tell me, if you don’t want to. You’re not my only confidential friend; there are others.”
“Who are they, Euny? I flattered myself I was your only really, truly intimate friend—not even excepting your husband!”