“Not even of Miss Rasmith. I know that she has a history, and that it’s a sad one.” She paused in ironical hesitation. “You’ve been so good as to caution me about her brother—and I never can be grateful enough—and that makes me almost free to suggest—”
She stopped again, and he asked, hardily, “What?”
“Oh, nothing. It isn’t for me to remind my pastor, my ghostly adviser”—she pulled down her mouth and glanced at him demurely—“and I will only offer the generalization that a girl is never so much in danger of having her heart broken as when she’s had it broken—Oh, are you leaving me?” she cried, as Breckon rose from his chair.
“Well, then, send Boyne to me.” She broke into a laugh as he faltered. “Are you going to sit down again? That is right. And I won’t talk any more about Miss Kenton.”
“I don’t mind talking of her,” said Breckon. “Perhaps it will even be well to do so if you are in earnest. Though it strikes me that you have rather renounced the right to criticise me.”
“Now, is that logical? It seems to me that in putting myself in the attitude of a final friend at the start, and refusing to be anything more, I leave established my right to criticise you on the firmest basis. I can’t possibly be suspected of interested motives. Besides, you’ve just been criticizing me, if you want a woman’s reason!”
“Well, go on.”
“Why, I had finished. That’s the amusing part. I should have supposed that I could go on forever about Miss Kenton, but I have nothing to go upon. She has kept her secret very well, and so have the rest of them. You think I might have got it out of Boyne? Perhaps I might, but you know I have my little scruples. I don’t think it would be quite fair, or quite nice.”
“You are scrupulous. And I give you credit for having been more delicate than I’ve been.”
“You don’t mean you’ve been trying to find it out!”