“I don’t feel young,” she said, shaking her head. “I feel as though I’d lived a long time.”
“You don’t live alone, do you?” he asked. “Yes?—poor child!” the last words were almost involuntary.
“And you have no friends in town?”
“No, not yet. My friends are abroad. I daresay it will be better when they come back; but I don’t know when they are coming,” she said.
“What a cruel, inhospitable city it is!” he exclaimed musingly.
“It’s too big; it’s rather frightening sometimes.”
“But—there are other teachers, aren’t there?” he asked after a moment, turning to her.
“Oh, yes; they are kind enough, and I like teaching,” she said hastily. “But—”
“Yes, I know.” Bridget glanced at him; his eyes met hers with a flash of sympathy, and her heart beat a little quicker.
“You liked the music to-night, in spite of being tired?”