"But Tristram of Blent is—is too much?"
"It's not your fault, you can't help it," smiled Bob. "You're born to it and——" He ended with a shrug.
"You're very fond of her?" Harry asked, frowning a little.
"I've been in love with her all my life—ever since they came to Seaview. Fairholme wasn't dreamed of then."
He spoke of Fairholme with a touch of bitterness which he hastened to correct by adding—"Of course I'm glad of their good luck."
"You mean, if it were Seaview still and not Fairholme——?"
"No, I don't. I've no business to think anything of the sort, and I don't think it," Bob interposed quickly. "You asked me a question and I answered it. I'm not in a position to know anything about you, and I'm not going to say anything."
"A good many reasons enter into a marriage sometimes," remarked Harry.
"Yes, with people like you. I know that."
His renewed reference to Harry's position brought another frown to Harry's face, but it was the frown of thoughtfulness, not of anger.