“Personally, I don’t see anything—” he began in a frigid tone, but it was of no use.
The dull, dingy old house rang with his great, hearty laugh.
VI
They were all having dinner together in a restaurant. In the circumstances, Miss Torrance could not well refuse, especially as it was Mr. Martin’s one night on shore; but she was not happy. Every one else was happy, but not she.
As a rule, she strong-mindedly concealed her feelings, but to-night she didn’t. She allowed Mr. Robertson to see just how miserable she was. Olive and Mr. Martin might have seen this, too, if they had looked at her.
“It looks as if there was a new story beginning there,” observed Mr. Robertson. “Might be called ‘Mr. Martin Swallows the Anchor.’”
Miss Torrance refused to smile.
“I shall miss Olive so,” she said, in a not very steady voice, “if she—”
“I’m sure you would,” agreed Mr. Robertson; “but she couldn’t find a better fellow than young Martin. I’ve known him all his life, and—”
“Yes, I know,” said Miss Torrance; “but I shall be lonely—oh, so lonely!”