ed her antagonisms and smiled
across at Olive. "Dear Miss Keltridge, I don't want to gossip; but,
between old friends like ourselves, one can speak out. Has it ever
seemed strange to you that we none of us know just what is wrong with
Reed Opdyke? Or do you know?"

"I have no idea at all."

"But don't you ever wonder?"

"No; it's not my business," Olive said curtly. Then her sense of
downright honour undermined her curtness. "Yes; after all, I suppose
that, being human, I do wonder now and then."

"Then you don't know, either?"

"How should I?"

"You see him so very often."

Olive stiffened.

"Really, Mrs. Brenton, it's not a thing one talks about."

"Oh?" Kathryn's accent was indescribable. "I supposed he'd talk to you.
Or haven't you ever asked him?"

"I have not."

Kathryn leaned a little nearer.

"After all, Miss Keltridge, doesn't that seem a little bit--"

Olive waited.

"Self--er--centred?"

"I don't see how. Mr. Opdyke would tell me, if he cared to have me
know."

"Unless he thought you would find it out by intuition," Kathryn
suggested balmily, as she leaned back in her chair and smoothed her
dressing gown.

It was with difficulty that Olive downed her amusement.

"Intuition, as a rule, doesn't count for much with spines and internal
injuries," she said.

Kathryn once more became eager.

"Then it is his spine, poor dear man?"

And once more Olive became dry.

"I should think it highly probable from the way they are treating him."

"Terrible; isn't it?" And Olive almost forgave her hostess all things,
for the sake of the one word of honest and spontaneous pity, devoid of
all "poor dears." Then her forgiveness waned. "However, if I were in
your place, I'd ask him outright what is the trouble. I think the
Opdykes owe it to their friends to speak out and end the mystery, and
put a stop to all the gossip."

"Is there gossip?" Olive queried disdainfully, as she arose.

Still seated, Kathryn stared up at her with eyes that were determined
to lose no flicker of an answering confession.

"Of course. In a case like this, there's bound to be. There's every
sort of story floating about. Some people even go so far as to say that
they only brought home the top end of him; that all that shows below
his waist is only a padded roll of blankets. That's one reason I want
so much to see him; I know I could tell whether there was any truth in
such absurd stories." She pulled herself up short; th