"And tell you?" she asked doubtfully, leaping ahead of my words, as I found she had a way of doing.
"If he asks you to send a message to anyone, or asks about anyone in particular, I want to know it. Your brother is keeping something from me, Miss Jean, and I must find out what it is, in order to do him justice. I think there is someone else involved in this affair, and that he is keeping silence to his own hurt. Just remember that this is what I must find out about, somehow, and if he says anything--anything--that would show who is in his mind, that you must tell me."
"I understand," she said, wide-eyed. "But whom could he care for so much as that?"
"You can't help me by a guess?"
"No. I'm afraid not. Gene writes beautiful letters when he wants to, but not like girls' letters, you know. Not about every little thing."
We found Gene, as I had found him before, the polite, nice-mannered boy, evidently trying somewhat anxiously to deport himself as a gentleman should under unrehearsed conditions.
"I have brought your sister for a little visit," I said. "I am coming for her after a little. I have arranged that you shall not be disturbed, so you may talk to her freely and without hesitation."
"Oh, thank you! I hope I am not putting you to any trouble. I'm so sorry, Jean, that you should have to come here to see me. It isn't at all the right place for a girl." He looked as apologetic and disturbed as though he had brought her there inadvertently.
I left them together for half an hour and then went back for Jean. Eugene detained me for a moment after Jean had said her last cooing goodbye.
"I wish you would tell her not to come here," he said anxiously. "It won't look well. I can stand it alone all right. Honest, I can."