“Mr Garstang!—guardian!” she said, starting up, with the tears now beginning to fall.
“There, there, fought to have known better,” he cried, catching up the poker, and beginning to use it hurriedly. “Men are so stupid. Don’t take any notice, my dear. I’ll counter-order it.”
“No, no,” she said gently, as she advanced to him and held out her hand “I am not hurt; I am pleased and grateful.”
“You are—really?” he cried, letting the poker drop, and catching her hand in his.
“Of course I am,” she said, simply. “How could I be otherwise? Don’t think me so thoughtless, and that I do not feel deeply all your kindness.”
“Kindness, nonsense!” he said, dropping her hand again, and turning away. “But will it help to make the time pass better?”
“Yes, I shall be very glad to have it.”
“And, er—you’ll sing and play to me sometimes when I come back here?”
“Yes,” she said, smiling through her tears; “and I would to-night, now that you have come back tired and careworn, if it were here.”
“Tired and careworn? Who is?”