"Hate him?... Why, I—I don't know as you'd call it hate."
"I know. It is plain to see. You have hated him ever since he came. But why? He has never—you won't believe this, but it is true—he has never, to me at least, said one word except in your praise. He likes and admires you. He has told me so."
"Does he tell your mother the same thing?"
She looked at him. "Why do you couple my mother's name with his?" she demanded quickly. "Why should he tell her anything that he doesn't tell me?"
It was a question which Sears could not answer. For some time he had noticed and guessed and feared, but he could not tell her. So he was silent, and to remain silent was perhaps the worst thing he could have done.
"What do you know against Mr. Phillips?" she asked. "Tell me. Do you know anything to his discredit?"
Again he did not answer. She turned away.
"I thought not," she said. "Oh, envy is such a mean trait. Well, I suppose I shouldn't expect to have many friends—lasting friends."
"Here! hold on, Elizabeth. Don't say that."
"What else can I say? I am sorry I spoke to you as I did, but—I think you have more than paid the debt.... Yes, mother, I am coming."