"
Mrs. Penniman stopped, looking at him very solemnly.
"My poor Morris, do you know how much she loves you?"
"No, I don't. I don't want to know. I have always tried to keep
from knowing. It would be too painful."
"She will suffer much," said Mrs. Penniman.
"You must console her. If you are as good a friend to me as you
pretend to be, you will manage it."
Mrs. Penniman shook her head sadly.
"You talk of my 'pretending' to like you; but I can't pretend to hate
you. I can only tell her I think very highly of you; and how will
that console her for losing you?"
"The Doctor will help you. He will be delighted at the thing being
broken off, and, as he is a knowing fellow, he will invent something
to comfort her."
"He will invent a new torture!" cried Mrs. Penniman. "Heaven deliver
her from her father's comfort. It will consist of his crowing over
her and saying, 'I always told you so!'"
Morris coloured a most uncomfortable red.
"If you don't console her any better than you console me, you
certainly won't be of much use! It's a damned disagreeable
necessity; I feel it extremely, and you ought to make it easy for
me."
"I will be your friend for life!" Mrs. Penniman declared.
"Be my friend NOW!" And Morris walked on.
She went with him; she was almost trembling.
"Should you like me to tell her?" she asked. "You mustn't tell her,
but you can--you can--" And he hesitated, trying to think what Mrs.
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