An expression of genuine sorrow came over Mr. Fletcher’s face as he spoke; and, remembering that the silly little woman was his sister, Christie put out her hand with a look and gesture so full of sympathy that words were unnecessary. Taking advantage of this propitious moment, he said, with an expressive glance and effective tone: “I am all alone now. You will let me come again?”
“Certainly, if it can give you pleasure,” she answered heartily, forgetting herself in pity for his sorrow.
Mr. Fletcher pressed her hand with a grateful, “Thank you!” and wisely went away at once, leaving compassion to plead for him better than he could have done it for himself.
Leaning back in her chair, Christie was thinking over this interview so intently that she started when David’s voice said close beside her:
“Shall I disturb you if I say, ‘Good-night’?”
“I thought you were not going to say it at all,” she answered rather sharply.
“I’ve been looking for a chance; but you were so absorbed with that man I had to wait.”
“Considering the elegance of ‘that man,’ you don’t treat him with much respect.”
“I don’t feel much. What brought him here, I wonder. A French salon is more in his line.”
“He came to see Mr. Power, as every one else does, of course.”