"I think Mr. Portman would have been wise if he had confided more in you," said Quarles, after talking to him for some time.
"I think so, too," the youth answered.
"No—no, I cannot say he ever did."
"When he came in that afternoon he stood in the doorway there and talked to you?"
"He was telling me about some papers he would want in the morning. Very snappy he was, I can tell you."
"The weather, possibly. It was foggy and unpleasant."
"He was usually unpleasant, no matter what the weather was. He paid me fairly well, or I shouldn't have stayed with him as I have done."
"Yet, when he went out later that evening, he stopped in the doorway to say good night."
"He did, and you might have knocked me down with a feather," said the youth. "I don't remember his ever doing such a thing before. I'd put some letters which had come during the afternoon on his table, and the news in them must have been good. He'd had some worrying business on hand, I know."