He did not catch
Mrs. Kate's reply; he was not in love with Mrs. Kate, and he was engaged
in letting the words of Josephine sink into his very soul, and in
telling himself over and over that she understood. It seemed to him a
miracle of intuition, that she should sense the fight he was making;
and since he felt that way about it, it was just as well he did not know
that Jim Felton sensed it quite as keenly as Josephine--and with a far
greater understanding of how bitter a fight it was, and for that reason
a deeper sympathy.
"I wish Chester was here!" wailed Mrs. Kate, across the glow of his
exultant thoughts. "I'm afraid to say anything to him myself, he's so
morose. It's a shame, because he's so splendid when he's--himself."
"He's as much himself now as ever he was," Josephine defended hotly.
"When he's drinking he's altogether--"
"You never saw him drunk," Mrs. Kate pointed to the weak spot in
Josephine's defense of him. "Dick says--"
"Oh, do you believe everything Dick says? A week ago you were bitter
against Dick and all enthusiasm for Ford."
"You were flirting with Dick then, and you'd hardly treat Ford decently.
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