"You're jealous," said Mrs. Bunker, laughing.
He looked at her with kindled eyes. "I am," he answered. "I confess it—horribly jealous!"
Again Mrs. Bunker laughed.
"You don't take me seriously, Mrs. Bunker."
"That's the trouble. I'm trying to laugh you out of this thing for your own good." She laid down her work and looked at him sympathizingly.
"Yes, I know you mean all right by me," he said with a sigh which was almost a sob. "But you needn't try to laugh me out of it—you can't do that."
"My dear Glen, you're making it very hard for your yourself! Take my advice for once."
"You can't laugh me out of it," he repeated, burying his face in his hands.
"I'll talk to you just as if you were my own—I've often wished I had a son. I could have done so much for him—I could have made something of a son of mine. You are a young fellow, with every advantage that money can give—handsome, and healthy, and clever. The world's before you. Rise up and be a man! Crush this thing under your feet! Don't consider your life is over before it's begun—because you can't have the first thing you happened to wish for. Love isn't the only thing in life—especially for a man. Look at the sphere a man has for his activity! I sometimes feel like shaking some of you!"
"You don't understand—you don't know—what a hold it has taken of me!"