“And still he seems improved since I saw him in New Orleans.”
“Oh, he is; he is much better, else he would not have been able to take the voyage across.”
There was a little silence. Mr. Burrage’s eyes were closed, and he was breathing heavily and regularly.
“We must speak low,” whispered the girl. “Let him rest.”
“Yes, let him rest,” said Frank, drawing his chair nearer to her. “And now tell me about yourself, Inza.”
“I didn’t know as you would care to ever hear anything about me again,” she murmured, and he saw the warm color creep up into her cheeks.
“What nonsense, Inza! Is that why you cut me yesterday, and again to-day, on the Row?”
“N-no.”
“Why was it?”
“Oh, I don’t know. That is—I——”