he had come to believe that you and he were not suited for marriage—what I want to know is, Nan, would you want him to come to you and make a clean breast of it—tell you all about it, just as he felt?"
I saw where Burr was coming out; I saw it with a sickening certainty that made the color come to my face. I didn't raise my eyes from the magazine I had picked up, and I tried, in the half-minute that I hesitated, to consider his question fairly. Finally I replied very calmly, "Why, yes, I think I should want him to tell me, Burr."
"Thanks, Nan. I knew I could count on you. For I guess you know what I'm driving at. You see, I'm not going to ask your advice—I've already decided—but I wanted you to know about it, and that I feel as bad about the whole affair as a man can. I thought perhaps you could make it easier for her, somehow,—she's so fond of you, Nan,—if you knew how I felt. It's the hardest thing I've ever had to do in all my life!"
I turned a page of the magazine. "I suppose you've felt this way about it for quite a while, Burr," I remarked casually.
"Yes, Nan, I have. For over a year. I've fought against it—hard, too. At first it seemed impossible to doubt my feelings for Elsie. I
