“No, he ain't, either. He's got hardly any.”
“Did he tell you that too?” Even to her own ears there was a faint sneer in the interrogation.
“Yes, he did,” said Evelina, dropping her lids with a smile. “He seemed to be just crazy to talk to somebody—somebody agreeable, I mean. I think the man's unhappy, Ann Eliza.”
“So do I,” broke from the elder sister.
“He seems such an educated man, too. He was reading the paper when I went in. Ain't it sad to think of his being reduced to that little store, after being years at Tiff'ny's, and one of the head men in their clock-department?”
“He told you all that?”
“Why, yes. I think he'd a' told me everything ever happened to him if I'd had the time to stay and listen. I tell you he's dead lonely, Ann Eliza.”
“Yes,” said Ann Eliza.