“Oh, nothing to speak of,” he replied, airily. “I just happened to hear you broke that gold wrist-watch you usually wear——”
“I did,” she said. “But John found another for me to-day—a new one exactly like it.” She displayed her left forearm for inspection. “Isn’t it lovely of him always to be so dear about all the little thoughtful things?”
“I don’t know,” Hobart said; and he quoted an ancient bit of slang: “There might be others!”
She shook her head. “Not like him!”
“Are you sure, Julietta?” He gave her a quick and serious look that increased her surprise. “You might at least take a glance round you to see.”
“What on earth are you talking about, Hobart Simms?”
At that he gave her another quick glance—a personal glance, as it might have been defined, since to Julietta it seemed to convey an unexpected feeling concerning herself and himself. Then he looked wistfully away, and when he spoke, a moment later, his voice had not the briskness customary in his speech;—it was, on the contrary, perceptibly unsteady. “Julietta, I’ve been—well, don’t you suppose a man might some day get a little tired of being—I mean to say, here I am with you, day after day—yet really not with you. You’re so busy noticing old John all the time, you never take time off to be a little friendly with anybody else.”
She caught her breath, staring at him wonderingly. “But you—you never showed me you wanted me to,” she said, slowly.
“Didn’t I?” He turned to her, smiling, and as he spoke he removed the paper wrappings of the small packet. “Other people might want to do some of the ‘little thoughtful things’ too—if they ever got a chance.”
He put into her hand the green velvet box that had been inside the wrapping, and she opened it curiously;—then suppressed an outcry.