"Tell me about her."
"There isn't much to tell, except that when I was a great hulking youngster, with only her to love—she died——"
"Oh,—I'm so sorry——"
He went on slowly, still watching her busy fingers "Since then I have never had a friend. Not the kind she was. Why, she used to love to listen to my boy's talk—of how I was going to be great, of how I was going to conquer the world,—and she has been dead ten years—and I have done nothing."
It was a new Justin who spoke in this fashion. To Bettina he had always seemed as light as air, and she had enjoyed his frivolity, but now she felt something more than enjoyment,—a yearning to be of use to this big boy who was all alone, and who missed his little sister.
Surely to be his friend need not interfere in any way with Anthony's claims. She loved Anthony and was going to marry him, of course. But friendship and love were different things. Why, Mrs. Martens was married, and she had been Justin's friend in Germany.
She spoke her thought. "But Mrs. Martens?"
"She was a dear—but she is older than I—and I stood a bit in awe of her—she sympathized with me—but she could not dream with me, and I wanted some one to share my dreams."
Bettina's blue eyes were wistful. What a wonderful thing it would be to share somebody's dreams. She was perfectly sure that she did not share Anthony's. He had never told her of his dreams. Perhaps he didn't have any. His life was so practical and full of work, and then he was old—oh, yes, indeed, he was older than Mrs. Martens—and Justin had said that Sophie was too old to understand.
She found herself asking, "What were your dreams?"