"Not that! My father ran away from this town. You and Mother Howard helped him. You didn't come back. Neither did my father. Eventually it killed him."
"So?" Harry looked seriously and studiously at the young man. "'E did n't write me of'en."
"He did n't need to write you. You were here with him—when it happened."
"No—" Harry shook his head. "I was in town."
"But you knew—"
"What's Mother Howard told you?"
"A lot—and nothing."
"I don't know any more than she does."
"But—"
"Friends did n't ask questions in those days," came quietly. "I might 'ave guessed if I 'd wanted to—but I did n't want to."