"Certainly, it is my intention to do so, Mr. Mallow. We will put our two old heads together, and see what we can do. Good-day, good-day," and Brock trotted off.
[CHAPTER VIII.]
"THE LIGHT-HAIRED MAN."
When Mallow returned to his rooms he found Lord Aldean seated in his most comfortable arm-chair. His expression was extremely thoughtful, and, withal, a trifle anxious. Polyphemus, as Laurence sometimes called him--in allusion to his size--was not usually given to a gentle melancholy. Mallow could only conclude there must be something wrong with the boy.
"You here, Jim?" said he, throwing hat and gloves on a near table. "What is the matter with you, man? You look as miserable as an owl."
"Mallow, you lack the delicacy of perception necessary for the correct understanding of the feelings of a man in my condition. Besides, your simile is rude."
"Oh, I see. Miss Ostergaard has been crushing you as usual."
"On the contrary, she is particularly amiable."
"That ought to encourage you."
"It does," said Aldean miserably; "so much so that I have made up my mind to propose to her this very day."