"Was the '47 port as good as you hoped?" I asked, sympathetically.
He sat down. I had arranged my chair so that there was none other in its immediate neighborhood. Thus he was some way off, and could realize my whole silhouette.
"The '47 port? Oh yes; but I am not going to talk of port. I want you to tell me a lot more about yourself, and your plans——"
"I have no plans—except to see the world."
He picked up a book and put it down again; he was not perfectly calm.
"I don't think I shall let you. I am more than ever convinced you ought to have some one to take care of you—you are not of the type that makes it altogether safe to roam about alone."
"Oh! as for my type," I said, languidly, "I know all about that. Mrs. Carruthers said no one with this combination of color could be good, so I am not going to try. It will be quite simple."
He rose quickly from his chair and stood in front of the great log fire, such a comical expression on his face.
"You are the quaintest child I have ever met," he said.
"I am not a child, and I mean to know everything I can."