"Well, I wish she'd love me a little, then, as there's nobody else."
"Do you know, I shouldn't be a bit surprised if she does," I almost whispered. "Perhaps that's what's making her so queer."
"I wish I could think so," sighed Mr. Starr. But he didn't look as radiant as one might have expected. He seemed more startled than delighted. "Anyhow," he went on, "you're a dove-hearted angel, and it's all fixed up that I'm to be a brother to you, whatever other relationships I may be engaged in. I must try and get to work, and earn my salt by making you happy."
"I don't feel to-night as if I could ever be happy again," I told him. "The world seems such a sad place to be in."
"I'll see what I can do, anyhow," said he. "Would it make you happier if van Buren were happier?"
"Oh yes," I exclaimed. "He's been so kind to Nell and me. But I'm afraid nothing can be done. An unfortunate marriage for a young man of—of an affectionate nature is such a tragedy, isn't it?"
"Awful. But it may never come off."
"I don't see what's to prevent it," I said. And the memory of that last look on Mr. van Buren's face came up so vividly that tears stood in my eyes.
"I've thought of something that might," said he; and I was burning to know what when the door opened, and Nell came in without her coat and hat.
She eyed Mr. Starr reproachfully. "Oh, you promised to ask Robert to go back with you to the pier," she said. "Has he gone by himself?"