I, with my eyes fastened on the romance of Mrs. Payne and Mr. Sylvester, had noticed nothing; the explanation that Roger had gone off for a few days with friends was enough for me; but it was Alec, with a keener vision, who had seen something wrong.
“What ails Ellen?” he had asked me.
“Why—what should?” I asked.
“Roberta,” said Alec, “is Ellen in love with Roger?”
“How should I know?” said I.
Alec looked down, kicking the dust before him with the gesture of a little boy.
“It would be natural if they cared for each other,” he continued. Then he suddenly flung out his hand and said, “If it’s so, he won’t ever make her happy.”
“Why, Alec, what do you mean?” I said.
“He’s only thinking about himself; he’s interested only in Roger Byington,” Alec declared with vehemence.
He filled these next days as full of himself as he could; making Ellen laugh at his fantastic goings-on as he pretended to be the bulletin which announced how far the gossip had reached. With his tender second sight he tried to hide Ellen from herself or whatever it was that was troubling her.