"Your father's to blame for my making a fool of myself at the supper-table. He spoke so kindly and sympathetically, and I was so tired and silly that I couldn't stand anything. Then you looked reproachfully at me because I couldn't eat all you sent—enough to make Uncle Sheba ill."
"Now, Miss Bodine, I didn't look at you reproachfully."
"Who's that snoring over there?"
"Dr. Devoe. My facial muscles must have been shaken out of shape to have given you so false an impression. Anyhow, I seem to have driven you away, and I've been miserable ever since."
"Why, Mr. Houghton! The idea of letting a tired girl's weakness disturb you! You will soon be as ill as Mr. Clancy."
"I'm only stating a fact."
"Well, facts are very queer nowadays. I suppose we shouldn't be surprised at anything."
"Yet you are a continual surprise to me, Miss Bodine. Do you think I've forgotten anything since you carried Mrs. Bodine out of her tottering house?"
"Oh, Mr. Houghton! my memory goes further back than that. I can see a tall man leap into a sinking boat and—and—oh, why did you sink with it? My father's agony over the thought that you had died for him turned his hair white."
"I couldn't help sinking, Miss Bodine. If it hadn't been for that blasted pole—Well, perhaps it saved all our lives, for my boat was overloaded as it was. But don't think about that affair. It might have turned out worse."