"It's rough luck—about Uncle George," he said awkwardly, and Marie nodded.
"Yes."
She wondered if he thought she ought to be crying. She would have been amazed if she could have known that he was hoping with all his heart and soul that she would not.
He changed the subject abruptly.
"Aunt Madge would have come to meet you, but there is so much to see to. She sent her love and told me to say she was sorry not to be able to come."
"I don't mind," said Marie. She would infinitely rather have been met by Chris. Her dark eyes searched his face with shy adoration.
She was quite sure there had never been anybody so good-looking as he in all the world; that there had never been eyes so blue, or with such a twinkle; that nobody had ever had such a wonderful smile or such a cheery laugh; that there was not a man in the whole of London who dressed so well or looked so splendid.
As a matter of fact, Christopher was rather a fine looking man, and perfectly well aware of the fact. He had more friends than he knew 6 what to do with, and they all, more or less, spoilt him.
He was generally good-tempered, and always good company. He was run after by all the women with marriageable daughters though, to do him justice, so far he evinced very little interest in the opposite sex.
He looked now at Marie, and thought what a child she was! He would have been amazed could he have known that beneath her black coat her heart was beating with love for him, deep and sincere.