Waterville stared. "Did he call her Nancy Beck?"
"We never mentioned her; but I saw what he wanted, and that he wanted me to lead up to her—only I would n't do it."
"Ah, poor man!" Waterville murmured.
"I don't see why you pity him," said Littlemore. "Mrs. Beck's admirers were never pitied."
"Well, of course he wants to marry her."
"Let him do it, then. I have nothing to say to it."
"He believes there 's something in her past that 's hard to swallow."
"Let him leave it alone, then."
"How can he, if he 's in love with her?" Waterville asked, in the tone of a man who could enter into that sentiment too.
"Ah, my dear fellow, he must settle it himself. He has no right, at any rate, to ask me such a question. There was a moment, just as he was going, when he had it on his tongue's end. He stood there in the doorway, he could n't leave me—he was going to plump out with it. He looked at me straight, and I looked straight at him; we remained that way for almost a minute. Then he decided to hold his tongue, and took himself off."
Waterville listened to this little description with intense interest. "And if he had asked you, what would you have said?"
"What do you think?"
