Varick smiled.
"Oh, yes," he answered dryly, "that was why."
Mr. Mapleson seemed overwhelmed.
"Does she love him?" he exclaimed.
Varick busied himself with rearranging the dishes on the tray. Love David Lloyd? What had that to do with it? Wasn't she marrying him? He did not say this, however, to Mr. Mapleson. He did not say anything, in fact. But Mr. Mapleson was too occupied with his own thoughts to notice this.
"She'll be happy, don't you think?" he chirped.
"Happy?" echoed Varick.
"Why, you think so, don't you?" cried Mr. Mapleson, alarm in his voice. "Why shouldn't she be happy?"
A faint color mounted into his peaked face. It was evident that a rising excitement fired the little man. Oblivious of how all this must hurt Varick, the man Bab once had loved, Mr. Mapleson gave vent to a sudden chuckle.
"Never mind the tray; I can't eat anything," he said feverishly; then he darted a glance at Varick. "Say!" he cried, his eyes unnaturally bright. "They won't turn her out now; they won't turn her out at all! Yes, and that ain't all either! If she marries that fellow she'll still have all that money! It's great, ain't it? Just think of it—she's going to have everything after all!"