“Yes, they’re dead,” he said; “they died long ago.”
“And have you any brothers and sisters?”
“No; I have a cousin, though,” and he groaned.
“I am so glad,” she said, in a low voice.
“Don’t be. I’m not. He’s a—I don’t like him; we don’t get on together, you know.”
“You quarrel, do you mean?”
“Like Kilkenny cats,” assented the Savage.
“Then he must be a bad man,” she said, simply.
“No,” he said, quietly; “everybody says that I am the bad one. I’m a regular bad lot, you know.”
“I don’t think that you are bad,” she said.