“Well, of course, I—I—” Miss Maggie was laughing and blushing painfully, but there was a new light in her eyes. “Well, anyway, everybody said you were!” she defended herself stoutly.
“Oh, good Heavens!” Mr. Smith leaped to his feet and thrust his hands into his pockets, as he took a nervous turn about the room. “For myself, indeed! as if, in my position, I’d—How perfectly absurd!” He wheeled and faced her irritably. “And you believed that? Why, I’m not a marrying man. I don’t like—I never saw the woman yet that I—” With his eyes on Miss Maggie’s flushed, half-averted face, he stopped again abruptly. “Well, I’ll be—” Even under his breath he did not finish his sentence; but, with a new, quite different expression on his face, he resumed his nervous pacing of the room, throwing now and then a quick glance at Miss Maggie’s still averted face.
“It was absurd, of course, wasn’t it?” Miss Maggie stirred and spoke lightly, with the obvious intention of putting matters back into usual conditions again. “But, come, tell me, just what did you do, and how? I’m so interested—indeed, I am!”
“Eh? What?” Mr. Smith spoke as if he was thinking of something else entirely. “Oh—that.” Mr. Smith sat down, but he did not go on speaking at once. His eyes frowningly regarded the stove.
“You said—you kept Pennock and Gaylord away,” Miss Maggie hopefully reminded him.
“Er—yes. Oh, I—it was really very simple—I just monopolized Mellicent myself, when I couldn’t let Donald have her. That’s all. I saw very soon that she couldn’t cope with her mother alone. And Gaylord—well, I’ve no use for that young gentleman.”
“But you like—Donald?”
“Very much. I’ve been looking him up for some time. He’s all right.”
“I’m glad.”
“Yes.” Mr. Smith spoke abstractedly, without enthusiasm. Plainly Mr. Smith was still thinking of something else.