His eyes thanked her for her understanding and sympathy.
"It isn't easy," he confessed.
"I won't hurt you any more. But just one question; is it quite hopeless?"
"I can't see any chance of cure."
"Poor old Bobs!" she said again, this time in a whisper. "If I were a man I'm sure I should be wild about Mona. I can see that even if she is my mother. She's so lovely; and she's so young; and she's"—Dee smiled—"she's such a bad child."
"No; she's not," he defended doggedly. "She's just a little spoiled because life has always petted her. And now the petting is almost over."
"Yes. That's hard to believe, isn't it? Of Mona! She's always had her own way with everyone and everything. But she's got courage. She won't flinch. Bobs, do you remember a talk we three had, months ago?"
"Yes."
"I'd like to do something for her before—something that she wanted. And for you, too. It wouldn't do any good, would it," she asked wistfully, "if I were to marry you?"