“Afraid for his—for his—” she hesitated moment, “for his health?”
“Yes, and only for his health,”, answered Radlett decisively. He rose to his feet as if to gain strength for what he was going to say. Then he seated himself again on the step beside her. Drawing a deep breath he began: “Jean, you are not looking well, either.”
Jean murmured something about the fatigue of the journey from the East.
“No,” said Radlett firmly, “it is not that. It is something deeper than that. You know it is, and I know it, too, so let there be no concealments between us!”
“What do you know? How do you know it?” Jean stammered.
“A man knows some things by instinct,” Radlett answered. “I think I should have found this out before long, anyhow; but your face, dear, is not good at concealments, and when I saw your eyes, which had been sad from the time we met in Tucson, suddenly light at the sight of Loring in the office here, when heard the little catch in your voice (Jean, I know every tone of your voice by heart) and when I saw and heard you, I knew!”
“Oh, Baird!”
“Never mind,” exclaimed Radlett, “we will not talk of that any more. I only wanted you to understand that we must be quite frank with each other, and that thus everything will come out right. Now tell me how things stand with you.”
“How can I, Baird? To you, of all people?”