"So I see. Pride is a good thing. So is love. Tell me you don't love her
and I'll--No, don't tell me that. I don't want to hear you perjure
yourself. And I shouldn't believe you. You may as well own up"--his
voice was gentle now--"that you're suffering--and not only with hurt
pride." There was silence for a little. Then Burns began again, in a
very low and quiet tone: "Have you anything against her, Cooly?"
The man before him, who was still standing, turned upon him. "How can
you ask me such a question?" he said fiercely.
"It's a question that has to be asked, just to get it out of the way.
Has she anything against you?"
"For heaven's sake--no! You know us both."
"I thought I did. Diagnosis, you know, is a series of eliminations. And
now I can eliminate pretty nearly everything from this case except a
certain phrase you used a few minutes ago. I'm inclined to think it's
the cause of the trouble." Coolidge looked his inquiry. "'_Having
nothing else to do._'"
Coolidge shook his head. "You're mistaken there. I have plenty to do."
"But nothing you couldn't be spared from--unless things have changed
since the days when we all envied you. You're still writing your name on
the backs of dividend drafts, I suppose?"
"Red, you are something of a brute," said Coolidge, biting his lip. But
he had taken the chair again.
"I know," admitted Red Pepper Burns. "I don't really mean to be, but the
only way I can find out the things I need to know is to ask straight
questions.
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