"Yes, I know," she replied absently.
"I should think you would envy Miss Warren."
"I don't," she said emphatically; "the man is more than the house."
"I don't think you would have said that a month ago."
"I fear not. I fear thee didn't like me that Sunday afternoon when I was so self-satisfied. I've thought it over."
"Indeed, Miss Adah, I would gladly be struck by lightning myself if it would change me for the better as greatly as you are changed."
"It wasn't the lightning," she said, blushing and slowly shaking her head. "I've been thinking."
"Ah," I laughed, "you are shrewd. If women only knew it, there's nothing that gives beauty like thought, and it's a charm that increases every year. Well," I continued, with the utmost frankness, "I do like you now, and what is more, I honestly respect you. When you come to New York again, I am going to ask your mother to trust me as if I were your older brother, and I'll take you to see and hear much that I'm sure you'll enjoy."
"Oh, that will be splendid!" she cried gladly. "I know mother will let me go with thee, because—because—well, she says thee is a gentleman."
"Do you know, Miss Adah, I'd rather have your mother say that than have all Mr. Hearn's thousands. But your mother judges me leniently. To tell you the honest truth, I've come lately to have a very poor opinion of myself. I feel that I would have been a much better man if, in past years, I had seen more of such people as dwell in this house."