"Then you go for a walk and I'll stand by. Only trust me. I'll see that nobody goes hungry."
She did not appear to have heard his offer, and Mr. Langham spoke again, with a sudden change of tone.
"I'd like to take you out of this. I'd like to make everything in the world easy for you, if you would only let me. But you know that. You've known it all along. And knowing it, you've never even shown that it interested you; and so I suppose it's folly for me to mention it. But a man can't give up all his hopes of happiness in this world without even stating them, can he? I've hoped that you might get to care a little about me——"
Mary interrupted him with considerable impatience.
"Really," she said, "with Chef shouting at the telephone, and all, I don't know what you are driving at."
At that Mr. Langham looked so hurt and so unhappy and woebegone that Mary was touched with remorse.
"I didn't realize you were in earnest," she said. "I'm sorry I've hurt your feelings, but it's no use. I'm sorry—awfully sorry; but it's no use."
"I'm sorry, too," said Langham; "sorry I spoke; sorrier there was no use in speaking; sorriest of all that I'm no good to any one. But as long as I had to come a cropper, why, I'm glad it was for no one less wonderful than you. Will you let things be as they were? I won't bother you about my personal feelings ever again by a look or a word."
After he had gone Mary stood for a while with knitted brows. Chef had finished telephoning. The kitchen was in silence. Suddenly she broke this silence.
"Chef," she exclaimed, "I'm no use at all! You'll just have to do the best you can about lunch by yourself."