"Geoffrey told me," she went on. "He's wild with delight. It will give him such a chance of making a show of himself."
I said nothing.
"It's what he's going to do—his own future success that he's been talking to me about. Never a word about Terry's tragedy."
"And never a word about his own tragedy, either," I put in. "You may as well be fair."
"Fair?" The word stung her, I could see. "Fair? It doesn't matter about being fair to him. He can defend himself. None better. Even stricken as he is, and with the whole world against him, I believe he'd be more than a match for it."
"You ought to admire him for that."
"Ought I? One gets tired of admiring a man for the same thing. I've admired him for his brains and his power so long that I'd like a change."
"And you don't feel sorry for him, lying in that chair all day and positively aching for something to happen?"
"I feel sorrier for Terry—giving the best years of his life to a thief and a fraud."
"I don't see why you shouldn't feel sorry for both of them."