"No, I don't mean to tell you that. Neither do I mean to say that you would be wrong in doing so. You have had cause. Lyman's stubbornness is quite enough to rasp a saint. I couldn't stand it; and between me and you, I wish they had lashed him till he would have craved the privilege of going away."
"Wait just one more moment, Mr. Caruthers. Is what you have told me in reality suspected by the people or did you evolve it out of your own richness of observation?"
Caruthers bowed his head under the outpour of this compliment. "It is not public talk," he admitted.
"Ah, thank you. Drop in at the bank some time and see me, sir. Good morning."
Warren stepped out of the room, merely nodding to McElwin as he passed. Lyman got up, handed McElwin a chair, and without speaking, sat down again. McElwin stood with his hands on the back of the chair, looking at Lyman, and evidently embarrassed as to what he ought to say. "Beautiful morning," said Lyman, seeing his embarrassment and feeling that it was his duty as host to help him out of it.
"Yes, very bright after the rain."
"That's a fact; it did rain last night."
"Mr. Lyman, I heard something this morning that has grieved me very much."
"Oh, about the White Caps. Sit down, won't you?"