“I can’t say.”
“Does she—live alone?”
“She does not. She lives with her uncle and her grandmother.”
“Her uncle—what does he do?”
“He’s in the commission business.”
The sun was going down, and the light was draining fast out of the sky. Napier’s face was in shadow.
“McLean has a wife and child,” he thought, “and Sprague supports his mother. She lives at home, with her people. I’ve got to be just!”
“Well?” asked McLean.
“Don’t make up an envelope for Miss Craig,” said Napier, rising.
After a solitary dinner, he walked down to the water front, and smoked a pipe, looking out over the little harbor. He was very unhappy over this problem.