“Does he?” she asked, carelessly, not trusting herself to say more.
“You have—it’s not my business, I know,” urged the sailor, “but I don’t mind, if I can spare you any worry in the future—you have a lot of stock in the Belinda and Lone Star, haven’t you?”
“Yes,” she replied.
“It does not pay at all, does it?” he asked.
She looked at him coldly as she responded, “I have not received any dividends this year.”
“But you spoke to me once as if you counted on this stock,” he returned—“as if you thought that the dividends were only deferred.”
“Did I?” she said, distantly, as though the matter interested her very little.
“That was why I took the liberty of getting the facts out of Tom Pixley,” Stone continued. “It wasn’t my business, I know, but, loving you as I did, I was afraid you might be bitterly disappointed.”
“No,” she interrupted, “I am not likely to be bitterly disappointed.”
“Then you were aware already that the Belinda and Lone Star is a failure?” he asked. “I am very glad you were, for I was afraid I might be the bearer of bad news.”