"Why, I haven't noticed anything," she says, and come over to a chair nearer to me.
"You don't mean," I says, "that you don't notice the change there's been in him?"—I didn't say in how long—"the lines in his face and how different he acts?"
"Oh, no," she says. "Why, surely not!"
"Surely yes," says I. "It strikes me—it struck me over there to-night—that something is the matter—serious."
"Oh, don't say that," she says. "You frighten me."
"I'm sorry for that," says I. "But it's better to be frightened too soon than too late. And if anything should happen I wouldn't want to think—"
"Oh!" she says, sharp, "what do you think could happen?"
"—I wouldn't want to think," I went on, "that I had suspicioned and hadn't warned you."
"But what can I do—" she began.