"Oh, I'm sorry. It's lonesome around here without—somebody to talk to." He took her hand and shook it as if she were a man. "You've been mighty good to me and—I wish you had a sister. That's all."
She left him the memory of a very bright and very girlish smile, and he found himself thinking that she could not be so much older than he, after all.
Mr. Cortlandt was awaiting his wife and rose courteously as she entered their suite.
"Did you send Annette for me?" she inquired.
"Yes. I thought you had forgotten the hour. We rise at six."
"My dear," she returned, coolly, "I was quite aware of the time. I was talking to Mr. Anthony."
"Do you find him so amusing?"
"Very much so."
"He's such a boy. By-the-way, some of the passengers are remarking about your friendship for him."
Mrs. Cortlandt shrugged. "I expected that. Does it interest you?"