“I’m not up-to-date on news of the quarter!” she said, archly. “Don’t come to me for that, Mr. Landry!”
“I didn’t. I came because I wanted to see you.”
She was pleased; she wished that she had put her least dusty velvet bow in her hair instead of this gnawed little thing that now perched there....
Perhaps his love for Rosaleen had given Nick a more understanding heart, or perhaps it was that he was well-disposed toward everyone associated with the beloved woman, but from whatever cause, he saw Miss Waters that day in a new light. He saw her not as a comic old maid, but as a quite admirable human being. She was a plucky old girl, struggling along with art lessons, and a wonderful friend.
She began asking him about himself, but he became more and more distrait. Suddenly he told her the whole story.
She was astonished, she was profoundly touched; she wept bitterly, but she was delighted, both because the magnificent Mr. Landry had seen fit to confide in her, and because it was a romantic history, such as she loved.
“I don’t know what to do,” he said, when he had finished. “I don’t know how to help her. Can you suggest anything?”
And, to his surprise, she did.
“No, of course, you can’t do anything,” she said. “But if you could only get the ladies of your family interested in her.... They could do anything!”
“What could they do?”