Paul turned with a smile, though his face was very pale. He did not say to Scott that he dreaded far worse than did June, the presence of his wife, for it seemed to him that Scott would not care for him as he had, and though he could not tell just why, it seemed to him that he would not be as happy as he had been.
“Well, Paul,” said June, wiping the tears away, “if Scott cares less for us when he gets Irene, you and I will be brother and sister.”
“If you will,” said Paul.
“And I hope you will agree as well as you and I have, June,” Scott said.
“I hope you and Irene will agree as well as we shall—but,” she added, springing upon Scott’s knee, and throwing her plump little arms around his neck, “I intend to sit here while I can, for I do not suppose I shall be allowed to do so in future.”
Scott’s mouth closed firmly; then he said:
“June, no one shall ever come between me and my sister; remember that—not even a wife. I do not think Irene would wish to, and if she did she could not; so do not foster any such ideas. I could never love my little sister less.”