She knew that Evelyn was not the kind of girl to cry hysterically over a slight illness.

Still she could not force this perverse young woman to tell that which she did not choose to tell.
"I am sorry you won't let me help you.

Are you sure that I can't be of service to you." "_You._" Evelyn laughed shortly.

"No; I am quite sure that _you_ can't be." "Very well." Grace was about to leave the room.
"Wait a minute!" Evelyn's voice rang out sharply.

"I--I--will tell you my trouble, Miss Harlowe.