"I shouldn't care for that," said the young man.
"You know she was a wonderful player?"
"So I've heard."
"Do you know," mused Helen, "I have never forgotten what you told me that first day we met. I think it was perfectly lovely of you."
"What was that?" Now it must be admitted that J. Wallingford Speed, in his relations with the other sex, frequently found himself in a position requiring mental gymnastics of a high order; but, as a rule, his memory was good, and he seldom crossed his own trail, so to speak. In this instance he was utterly without remembrance, however, and hence was non-committal.
"What you told me about your friendship for Mr. Covington. I think it is very unselfish of you."
"Oh, I wouldn't say that," ventured the young man, vainly racking his brain. "Nobody could help liking Culver."
"Yes; but how many men would step aside and let their best friend win prize after prize and never undertake to compete against him?" Speed blushed faintly, as any modest man might have done.
"Did I tell you that?" he inquired.
"Indeed you did."