Well, we all have company. Good
night, Russ."
That night I told Steele about the singular effect the story of his
treatment of Vey had upon Miss Sampson. He could not conceal his
feelings. I read him like an open book.
If she was unhappy because he did something really good, then she was
unhappy because she was realizing she had wronged him.
Steele never asked questions, but the hungry look in his eyes was enough
to make even a truthful fellow exaggerate things.
I told him how Diane was dressed, how her face changed with each
emotion, how her eyes burned and softened and shadowed, how her voice
had been deep and full when she admitted her father hated him, how much
she must have meant when she said she was between two fires. I divined
how he felt and I tried to satisfy in some little measure his craving
for news of her.
When I had exhausted my fund and stretched my imagination I was rewarded
by being told that I was a regular old woman for gossip.
Much taken back by this remarkable statement I could but gape at my
comrade. Irritation had followed shortly upon his curiosity and
pleasure, and then the old sane mind reasserted itself, the old stern
look, a little sad now, replaced the glow, the strange eagerness of
youth on his face.
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