"She took a great fancy to you. And when she heard something she thought you ought to know, she came to me and asked me to tell you. She said she knew you'd be discreet—that you could be trusted."
"I liked her, too," said Narcisse. "I think she can trust me."
"It's about—about—those insurance buildings," continued Neva, painfully embarrassed. "I'm afraid I'm rather incoherent. It's the first time I ever interfered in anyone else's business."
"Tell me," urged Narcisse. "I suppose it's something painful. But I'm good and tough—-speak straight out."
"Mrs. Ranier's husband is in the furniture business, and through that he found out there's a scandal coming. She says those people downtown will drag you and your brother in, will probably try to hide themselves behind you. She heard last night, and came early this morning. 'Tell her,' she said, 'not to let her brother reassure her, but to look into it—clear to the bottom.'"
Narcisse was motionless, her eyes strained, her face haggard.
"That's all," said Neva, rising. "I shouldn't have come, shouldn't have said anything to you, if I had not known that Mrs. Ranier has the best heart in the world, and isn't an alarmist."
Narcisse faced Neva and pressed her hands, without looking at her.
"If there is anything I can do, you have only to ask," said Neva, going. She had too human an instinct to linger and offer sympathy to pride in its hour of abasement.
"There's one thing you can do," said Narcisse, nervous and intensely embarrassed.