"Margery!" he called.
"Yes?" came Margery's voice from the dining room.
"Turn on the lights!"
By the time Margery had stepped through the portières and pushed the switch Jennie had thrown herself face downward on the davenport, crying.
"Nobody loves me!" she sobbed.
Margery, standing by the switch, looked from Merriam at the window to Jennie on the couch and back again. Her expression indicated no bewilderment--rather a humorously cynical comprehension. She knew her Jennie.
At any rate, that glance steadied the young man. After meeting it for a moment he turned to Jennie. Poor little girl! He felt that he understood her perfectly. There was a side of himself that was like that. Only he had other sides powerfully developed, and Jennie had no other sides. All his young chivalry rose up, in alliance with the missionary spirit of the teacher. He desired greatly to help her.
After an instant's hesitation he crossed the room and drew up a chair beside the davenport.
"Jennie," he said, "listen!"
"Go away!" said Jennie.