THE AMERICAN
thing particular to say to you. Have you seen your brother Valentine?"
"Yes, I saw him an hour ago."
"Did he tell you that he had seen me last night?"
"I think he spoke of it."
"And did he tell you what we had talked about?"
She visibly hesitated. While Newman made these enquiries she had grown a little pale, as if taking what might impend for inevitable rather than convenient. "Did you give him a message to me?"
"It was not exactly a message. I asked him to render me a service."
"The service was to sing your praises, was it not?" She had been clearly careful to utter this question in the tone of trifling.
"Yes, that is what it really amounts to," said Newman. "Did he therefore sing my praises?"
"He spoke very well of you. But when I know that it was by special request I must of course take his eulogy with a grain of salt."
"Ah, that makes no difference," Newman went on. "Your brother wouldn't have spoken well of me unless he believed what he was saying. He's too honest for that."
"Are you a great diplomatist?" she answered. "Are you trying to please me by praising my brother? I confess it's a good way."
"For me any way that succeeds will be good. I 'll praise your brother all day if that will help me. I just love him, you know, and I regard him as perfectly straight. He has made me feel, in promising to do what he can to help me, that I can depend upon him."
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