"No, Mr. Bartrow was all that the most exacting person could demand,—and more," said Miss Van Vetter, going to the mirror to begin the relaxing process. "It was something he told me."
"About Mr. Jeffard?"
"Yes; how did you know?"
"I didn't know—I guessed."
"Isn't it dreadful!"
"No. Some of the other things he did might have been that; but this is unspeakable."
Myra turned her back upon the mirror and came to stand behind Connie's chair with her arms about her cousin's neck.
"Connie, dear, do you know that one time I was almost afraid that you,—but now I am glad,—glad that your point of view is—is quite extrinsic, you know."
Connie's gaze was upon the fire in the grate, fresh-stirred and glowing, a circumstance which may have accounted for the sudden trembling of the eyelids and the upwelling of tears in the steadfast eyes. And as for the nervous little quaver in her voice, there was fatigue to answer for that.