“Because it seemed so strange to me—I could not understand him.”
“Merely strange and not brutal? Nothing to you? Well, you hardly knew him, Launa.”
“Nothing to me,” she repeated, and her father returned to his writing.
The young man with anticipations saw his departure, and hastened to talk to Launa. He was singularly anxious to realise the pleasure of Miss Archer’s society; she was quite original.
“You look pale,” he said, with solicitude.
“Do I?”
“And worried. As if someone were dead.”
“Some one is dead.”
“Relations of yours? Cheer up. Wait until you get to London.”
“And then?”