He went down the steps, hesitated, and, while Edith was still squeezing a little wet ball of a handkerchief against her eyes, came back.
"Do you mind if I ask you just one question, Edith?"
"Of course not! Only, Johnny, it just about kills me to be—horrid to you."
"Have you really got to be horrid?" said John Bennett.
"Johnny, I can't help it!"
"Is it because there's any other fellow, Edith? That's the question I wanted to ask you."
She was silent.
"Edith, I really think I have a right to know?"
Still she didn't speak.
"Of course, if there is—"