Dale Bannister flung the _Chronicle_ down on the table with a muttered oath, asking the eternally-asked, never-to-be-answered question, why people could not mind their own business--an unjust query in this case, for it is a reporter's business to mind other people's business. He had just come down from his first interview with Nellie. She was mending rapidly, and was now conscious, although any reference to the events of the fatal night was sternly forbidden; he was not even allowed to thank the friend who, happily, had only risked, not lost, her life for him. He had whispered his joy at finding her doing well, and she had pressed his hand in answer; more than that vigilant attendants prevented. Then he had come downstairs, picked up the _Chronicle_ in the hall, read the article, and gone into the smoking room, where he had found Arthur Angell sitting by the fire, his hands deep in his pockets and his shoulders up to his ears, a picture of woe.
"What infernal nonsense!" said Dale, with a vexed laugh. "Do you see how this fellow disposes of us, Arthur?"
"I suppose they're bound to say that. The public loves romance."
"I think it's very natural they should say it. Why did she follow you? Why did she risk her life? Why did she ask after you the first moment she was conscious?"
"No one but me was being murdered," suggested Dale, with a rather uneasy smile.
"We left her here. Why did she go out at all? But it's too plain. I saw it before I had been here a day."
"Saw what, man?" asked Dale, passing by Arthur's questionable assertion.
"Why, that Nellie--you know. I don't know what you feel, but I know what she feels. It's rough on me having me down----"
"I never thought of such a thing," said Dale quickly.
"Oh, I suppose not; though how you didn't---- I say, now, before you came to Denborough, didn't you?"
"I--I don't think so. We were great friends."
Arthur shook his head, and Dale poked the little bit of fire in an impatient way.
"Well, I'm out of it. She saved your life, and she's in love with you. It seems to me your duty's pretty plain. You must drop your other fancy."
"My other fancy?" exclaimed Dale in horror. Lived there a man who could call his love for Janet a "fancy"?
"You'd break her heart," said Arthur, who thought of no one but his lady-love in his unselfish devotion.