Success had not brought him happiness; the loss of Dan had been a blow to him, and she felt the friendlessness and isolation of this man whom men feared.
He had spoken doggedly, gruffly, and if she had marveled at their talk at the dance, her wonder was the greater now.

It was inconceivable that Morton Bassett should come to her with his difficulties.

If his conscience troubled him, or if he was touched with remorse for his conduct toward Dan Harwood, she was unable to see why he should make his confession to her.

It seemed that he had read her thoughts, for he spoke roughly, as though defending himself from an attack.
"You like him; you've known him for several years; you know him probably better than you know any other man." "I suppose I do, Mr.Bassett," said Sylvia; "we are good friends, but--that's all." He stopped short, and she felt his hand touch her arm for an instant lightly--it was almost like a caress, there in the rain-swept street with the maple boughs swishing overhead in the cold west wind.
He quickened his pace now, as though to mark a new current in his thoughts.
"There's a favor I want to ask of you, Miss Garrison.

Dan talked to me once or twice about your grandfather's estate.