"No, you don't. How can you? Nobody can understand, least of all a set old crank like you, Jed, and a confirmed bachelor besides. Beg pardon for contradicting you, but you don't understand, you can't."
Jed gazed soberly at the floor.
"Maybe I can understand a little, Charlie," he drawled gently.
"Well, all right. Let it go at that. The fact is that I'm at a crisis."
"Just a half minute, now. Have you said anything to Maud about— about how you feel?"
"Of course I haven't," indignantly. "How could I, without telling her everything?"
"That's right, that's right. Course you couldn't, and be fair and honorable. . . . Hum. . . . Then you don't know whether or not she—er—feels the same way about—about you?"
Charles hesitated. "No-o," he hesitated. "No, I don't know, of course. But I—I feel—I—"
"You feel that that part of the situation ain't what you'd call hopeless, eh? . . . Um. . . . Well, judgin' from what I've heard, I shouldn't call it that, either. Would it surprise you to know, Charlie, that her dad and I had a little talk on this very subject not so very long ago?"
Evidently it did surprise him. Charles gasped and turned red.