"Miss Bishop, I saw Jack the other day. He told me."
Sally lifted her head with an assumption of pride, a strained effort
to show the pride that Janet had urged her to possess. She crossed
the room and dropped into a chair.
"Aren't you going to sit down?" she asked.
"Thanks." He took the nearest chair, winding his watch-chain about
his finger to convey the air that he was at ease.
"Did Jack send you to see me?" she asked then.
"No."
"You've no message from him?"
"No."
"Then, why do you come here?" She wanted to put the question firmly,
but in her ears it sounded wavering; in his, touched only with
surprise.
"Do you remember that evening we dined together?" he asked in reply.
Could she forget it? She nodded her head in silence.
"If you recollect, I said I wished to offer my friendship?"
Her head nodded again. She did not make it easy for him; but the social
training inures one to the difficulties of forging conversation. He
ploughed through with a straight, undeviating edge that in no way
displeased her.
"Well, I don't want to distress you by going over the whole business
which, as you might quite justly say, was none of mine.
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