“That Mr Stratton has come to propose for Edie’s hand?”
“Of course.”
Myra’s brow contracted a little, and there was a puzzled look in her eyes as she said gently:
“Yes, he has been very attentive to her often. Well, I like Mr Stratton very much, Mr Barron.”
“James,” he said reproachfully.
“James,” she said, as if repeating a lesson, in a dreamy tone, and her eyes were directed toward the door.
“I like him, too, now that I am quite safe. There was a time, dear, when I first came here, and had my doubts. I fancied a rival in Mr Stratton.”
“A rival?” she said, starting and colouring. “Yes; but so I did in any man who approached you, dearest. But there never was anything—the slightest flirtation?”
“No, never,” she said quickly.
“Of course not; and I am so happy, Myra. You, so young and beautiful, to awaken first to love at my words. But are you not cruel and cold to me still? Our marriage so soon, and you treat me only kindly, as if I were a friend, instead of as the man so soon to be your husband.”