"Now," said Merefleet gravely, "I will take you for a row."
"Will you? Big Bear, you're a brick. I'll put you into my will. No, I won't, because I haven't got anything to leave. And you wouldn't want it if I had. Say, Big Bear! Haven't you got any friends?"
Merefleet looked surprised at the abrupt question.
"I have one friend in England besides yourself, Miss Ward," he replied. "His name is Clinton. But he is married and done for."
"My! What a pity!" she exclaimed. "Isn't he happy?"
"Oh, yes, I think so. Still, you know, most fellows have to sacrifice something when they marry. He was a war-correspondent. But he has spoilt himself for that."
"I see." Mab was prodding the shingle with the end of her sunshade, her face very thoughtful. Suddenly she looked up. "Never get married, Big Bear!" she said vehemently. "It's the most miserable state in Christendom."
"Anyone would think you spoke from experience," said Merefleet, smiling a little.
But Mab did not smile.
"I know a lot, Big Bear," she said, with a sharp sigh.