Did you say anything to him, Peter, to hurt his feelings?"
Peter shook his head. Morris, he knew, was the unconscious
culprit, but this was not for his sister's or Ruth's ears--not, at
least, until he could get at the exact facts for himself.
"He is as sensitive as a plant," continued Peter; "he closes all
up at times. But he is genuine, and he is sincere--that's better
than poise, sometimes."
"Well, then, maybe Ruth has offended him," suggested Miss Felicia.
"No--she couldn't. Ruth, what have you done to young Mr. Breen?"
The girl threw back her head and laughed.
"Nothing."
"Well, he went off as if he had been shot from a gun. That is not
like him at all, I should say, from what I have seen of him.
Perhaps I should have looked after him a little more. I tried
once, but I could not get him away from you. His manner is really
charming when he talks, and he is so natural and so well bred; not
at all like his friend, of whom he seems to think so much. How did
you like him, dear Ruth?"
"Oh, I don't know.
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