"I'll tell you sometime, Dick, but not now. It is too pitiful."
"I can wait," said Bartrow again; and his lack of curiosity drove her into the thick of it.
"If you knew you'd want to do something,—as I do, only I don't know how. Isn't it pretty clear that Mr. Jeffard cares a great deal for Connie?"
"Oh, I don't know about that. What makes you think so?" says the obvious one.
"A good many little things; some word or two that Margaret has let slip, for one of them. How otherwise would you explain his eagerness to help Connie?"
"On general principles, I guess. She's plenty good enough to warrant it."
"Yes, but it wasn't 'general principles' in Mr. Jeffard's case. He is in love with Connie, and"—
"And she doesn't care for him. Is that it?"
"No, it isn't it; she does care for him. I fairly shocked it out of her with the letter, and that is why I oughtn't to tell it, even to you. It is too pitiful!"