"Well, if you expect to do anything with her you must give her plenty of
that," Delia returned.

"All right: I'll give her all I have." And Miss Dosson's interlocutor
leaned back in his chair with folded arms, as to signify how much, if it
came to that, she might have to count with his patience. But she sat
there easy and empty, giving no sign and fearing no future. He was the
first indeed to turn again to restlessness: at the end of a few moments
he asked the young lady if she didn't suppose her father had told her
sister who it was.

"Do you think that's all that's required?" she made answer with cold
gaiety. But she added more familiarly: "Probably that's the reason.
She's so shy."

"Oh yes--she used to look it."

"No, that's her peculiarity, that she never looks it and yet suffers
everything."

"Well, you make it up for her then, Miss Delia," the young man ventured
to declare. "You don't suffer much."

"No, for Francie I'm all there. I guess I could act for her."

He had a pause. "You act for her too much. If it wasn't for you I think
I could do something."

"Well, you've got to kill me first!" Delia Dosson replied.