I betrayed his innocent confidence sufficiently in showing you his play.

I can't tell you his name." "After all, his name doesn't matter." "No, it doesn't matter.

Very likely you'll hear enough of it some day.

You haven't told me what you think of him." "I don't know what I think--But then, I don't know him." "No," he said, roused to interest by her hesitation, "you don't know him.

That's the beauty of it." She gave the manuscript back into his hands.