"I think we can let the matter rest for a while," she added. "Although, of course, it depends a good deal on whether we can make progress in some other direction. It's imperative to make a start."
"Keep me out of the charitable and religious game and I'll leave it all to you," said Bill, fervently. "But listen: don't start in with the idea that that valet is any friend of mine. He's dangerous."
"Then why do you keep him, Mr. Marshall?"
"Why? Oh, I'm—well, I'm sorry for him, you know. And I knew him in college, which makes it hard to turn him down. He sticks around in spite of me."
To Mary Wayne this explanation did not cover the situation. Peter the valet impressed her as a somewhat mysterious retainer in the Marshall household. But she did not press her inquiry. Instead, she asked Bill if it would be convenient for her to leave the house for a couple of hours that afternoon, as she had an errand to perform. Bill assured her that it would; he volunteered to drive her wherever she wanted to go, an offer that Mary declined with prim and hasty thanks.
Not long after that she was sitting at the bedside of Nell Norcross. The sick girl regarded her with feverishly bright eyes.
"I mustn't disturb you, of course," said Mary, "but the doctor says it is all right for you to talk a little. I need some advice."
"About what?" asked Nell.
"About how to get a young man into society when he doesn't want to get there. A rather violent young man, I'm afraid."