"Another thing," she said, "I'm sure he means no harm where I'm concerned. He has never known that I have a protector within call, and yet his whole attitude toward me has been gentle, humorous, and even chivalrous. I think," and the color came into her cheeks, "that he feels a fatherly sort of affection for me. So thank you for all the trouble you've taken."
"I, too, have reason to think that he means no harm," said West, "and if that is true, I am wasting my time."
There was a look of bitterness in his eyes that was not lost upon Barbara. And she was troubled.
"Of course," she said, "if you like to waste your time--"
He looked her straight in the eyes. "I do," he said, "I love to. No man's life would ever be complete if he didn't waste the best part of it--throw it away on something or other--on an ambition--on an ideal--on a woman."
Barbara returned his glance. "Just what, Mr. West," she said, "is the idea?"
And here, Mr. Harry West might have found the sudden courage to speak out what was in his heart, had he not remembered that to all intents and purposes he had no father, and consequently in the eyes of the great world to which Barbara belonged could not be considered to have any existence.
"Oh," he said, "I was just talking through my hat."
Barbara, who, you may say, had been unconsciously putting out tentacles of affection toward Harry West, at once withdrew them, and said coolly: "So I supposed."
"May I look at the bust?"