Didn't I see him, then and there, slyly try to take poor little Louie's hand, utterly forgetful of the disastrous result of a former attempt on what he believed to be that same hand? Didn't I see Louie civilly draw it away, and move her chair farther off from his? Didn't I see him flush up and begin to utter apologies? Didn't I hear Louie begin to talk of operas, and things in general; and soon after, didn't I see her rise and come over to Laura, and Nina, and me, as we were playing dummy? Methinks I did. Oh, Louie! Oh, Jack! Is she destined to be Number Four! or, good Heavens! Number Forty? Why, the man's mad! He engages himself to every girl he sees!
Home again.
Jack was full of Louie.
"Such fun! such life! Did you ever see any thing like her?"
"But the widow, Jack?"
"Hang the widow!"
"Miss Phillips?"
"Bother Miss Phillips!"
"And Number Three?"
Jack's face grew sombre, and he was silent for a time. At length a sudden thought seized him.