He felt a little twinge of disappointment. He would like to have her look to him for help and be able to help her. The only time he had attempted to help her he had failed.
"I asked you to come because I wanted to help you."
His pride was hurt. He thought she was beginning to pity him. Pity is not relished by a strong, self-respecting man. He became conscious of his run-down condition. He would not have been much surprised if she had offered to loan him money to buy a new suit of clothes. He wished he was away.
"You know," she continued, "I think that friends should always guard the interests of each other and, Harold, if I should need advice or assistance I do not know of anyone, outside of my father, whom I would rather trust than you." He felt better.
"I hope I may always be worthy of your confidence," he said.
"What I have to say concerns you directly, and it concerns me because you are my friend. I know that I can trust you not to tell the source of your information."
"Certainly you can."
"This afternoon I was seated in my office with the door slightly ajar. There was someone in the president's office talking with Mr. Stover. I am not sure who the man was, but from the quality of his voice I believe it was McBryan. I heard this man say 'Harold King is one of them.' I moved close to the door that I might hear better. Mr. Stover asked, 'Are you sure of that?'"
"What did he say?"
"He said, 'Yes, I am positive. We have a man who is a member of the Klan, who gave us this information.'"