"And if you get Bran away from Val, he will need a mother, and you surely would n't marry some old strange pig of a woman to mind him. He 's a gentle little kid and he must be mothered. I believe he 'd just die if he did n't have love and kindness round him all the time."
Westenra left off laughing and for the first time considered her seriously.
"Do you think you 'd make him a good step-mother, Haidee?"
"I love Bran, though I 've often been a pig to him--but that's Val's fault," she ended vindictively. "Oh, do have me, Garry."
"Well, we 'll think about it," said he gravely, though the suspicion of a smile hovered in his eyes. Haidee pounced upon him with her fresh lips.
"Won't I just run your nursing home for you!"
"Oh, that!" said Westenra, startled. "It runs itself now. Besides"--("No more experiments like that," he had been going to say, but did not)--"I have practically given it up. There'll be nothing for you to do in New York but mind Bran and amuse yourself."
Haidee looked glum for a moment. It was plain she was dying to run something.
"Anyway it's settled, is n't it, that I am to marry you and go back with you and Bran?" She flung her arms imploringly round his neck. Gently and a little wearily he unlaced them.
"All right, dearest, if you 're so keen on it, you shall go--but we won't get married just yet, I think--" He patted her hand affectionately.