"—as pure a woman as God ever made, while as for myself, I think my integrity of purpose and honesty of character, my sense of loyalty should be sufficiently known——"
"Say, old boy—" Bernal's face had lighted with a sudden flash of insight—"is it—I don't wish to be indiscreet— but is it anything about Mrs. Wyeth?"
"Then you do know?"
"Nothing, except that Nance met me at the door just now and puzzled me a bit by her very curious manner of asking if I had been at the Wyeth's this afternoon."
"What?" The other turned upon him, his eyes again blazing with the yellow points, his whole figure alert. "She asked you that—Really?"
"To be sure!"
"And you said—"
"'No'—of course—and she mumbled something about having been foolish to think I could have been. You know, old man, Nance was troubled. I could see that."
His brother was now pacing the floor, his head bent from the beautifully squared shoulders, his face the face of a mind working busily.
"An idiot I was—she didn't know me—I had only to——"