“A Hottentot might urge that; you will find the reason in time. Don’t make an idol; that is your temperament.”
“I know it.”
“And above all things don’t sacrifice yourself; few men appreciate being done good to! I know men, they are terribly human. Gus Hammerton is a fine fellow.”
“He is terribly human,” she answered with a little laugh.
“Am I harsh towards your mother ever, do you think?” he asked in a changed tone.
“Why, no,” she exclaimed in surprise.
“I used to be. I tried to mould her. Don’t you ever try to mould any body; now run away to your work or to your book! Don’t sigh over me, I am ‘well and hearty.’ How short my life seems when I look back. Such dreams as I had. It’s all right, though.”
She could not run away, for the door-bell, in answer to a most decided pull, detained her; she opened it, expecting to see Mr. Hammerton, but to her surprise, and but slightly to her pleasure, Felix Harrison stood there in broad-shouldered health.
“Good evening,” she said with some bewilderment.
“Do I startle you?” he asked in the old gracious, winning manner. “May I come in?”