“My dear George, how impolite you are. What a perfect bear you have grown to be. Do you want to know who told me?”
“I don’t care to know anything about it.”
“Well, nevertheless, I shall tell you. You told me.”
“I did? Nonsense, I never said anything about it.”
“Yes, you did. Your walk showed it. The dejected look showed it, and when I spoke to you, your actions, your tone, and your words told it to me plainer than if you had said, ‘I proposed to Miss Earle last night and I was rejected.’ You poor, dear innocent, if you don’t brighten up you will tell it to the whole ship.”
“I am sure, Blanche, that I am very much obliged to you for the interest you take in me. Very much obliged, indeed.”
“Oh no, you are not; and now, don’t try to be sarcastic, it really doesn’t suit your manner at all. I was very anxious to know how your little flirtation had turned out. I really was. You know I have an interest in you, George, and always will have, and I wouldn’t like that spiteful little black-haired minx to have got you, and I am very glad she refused you, although why she did so I cannot for the life of me imagine.”
“It must be hard for you to comprehend why she refused me, now that I am a partner in the firm.” Blanche looked down upon the deck, and did not answer.
“I am glad,” she said finally, looking up brightly at him with her innocent blue eyes, “that you did not put off your proposal until to-night. We expect to be at Queenstown to-night some time, and we leave there and go on through by the Lakes of Killarney. So, you see, if you hadn’t proposed last night I should have known nothing at all about how the matter turned out, and I should have died of curiosity and anxiety to know.”
“Oh, I would have written to you,” said Morris. “Leave me your address now, and I’ll write and let you know how it turns out.”