"I 'm glad you know Delia Beaseley, she 's a fine woman."
"A noble one," I said, heartily.
"Yes, noble—and good."
"And good," I repeated.
"I think I 'll tell you a little how good."
"I think I know."
"You do?" He looked surprised.
"Yes, she told me something of her life." He turned squarely to me then.
"How came she to?" He asked bluntly.
"Now, courage, Marcia Farrell, out with it," I said to myself, but aloud: