“Well, you know what I infer from your answer.”
“My dear sir, I said that you would not sail, and you will not, for this reason: To sail you require to catch to-night’s train for Montreal, and take the train from there to New York to get your boat. You cannot catch to-night’s train, and, therefore, cannot get to your steamer. I never before saw a man so glad to miss his train or his boat. Good-night, Mr. Trenton. Good-night, Mr. Mason,” she cried aloud to that gentleman, as she disappeared toward the house.
“You two appear to be quite friendly,” said Mr. Mason to the artist.
“Do we? Appearances are deceitful. I really cannot tell at this moment whether we are friends or enemies.”
“Well, not enemies, I am sure. Miss Eva is a very nice girl when you understand her.”
“Do you understand her?” asked the artist.
“I can’t say that I do. Come to think of it, I don’t think anybody does.”
“In that case, then, for all practical purposes, she might just as well not be a nice girl.”
“Ah, well, you may change your opinion some day—when you get better acquainted with her,” said Mason, shaking hands with his friend. “And now that you have missed your train, anyhow, I don’t suppose you care for a very early start to-morrow. Good-night.”