"No, I don't think so. Oh, I'm so unhappy!"
"You poor little dove! You don't mind my calling you that, do you?"
I shook my head. "No, it comforts me. It's so soothing after—after——"
"After what? Has anybody been beast enough——"
"Nobody's been a beast," I hurried to break in, "except, perhaps, me."
"Do tell me what's troubling you," he begged, and pulled my hands down from my face, not in the way Mr. van Buren had caught them, but very gently. I let him lead me to a sofa and dry my eyes with his handkerchief, because it seemed exactly like having a brother. It was just as nice to be sympathized with by him as I had often imagined it would be, and I liked it so much that I selfishly forgot he was soaked with rain, and ought to get out of his wet clothes.
"If I knew I would tell you," I said.
"You're worried about Alb—I mean Brederode?"
"Oh, now I know I'm a beast! I'd forgotten to ask about him, or the boats."
"You'd forgotten—by Jove! No, nothing heard or seen yet. I made Miss Van Buren come back at last. Had to say I was afraid of catching cold or she'd be there now. But see here, as it isn't Alb's fate that's bothering you, may I make a guess?"