“But aren’t you now?”
“No; not so much as that,” replied Stephen, as if such a supposition were extravagant. “You see, it was in this way—he came originally from the same place as I, and taught me things; but I am not intimate with him. Shan’t I be glad when I get richer and better known, and hob and nob with him!” Stephen’s eyes sparkled.
A pout began to shape itself upon Elfride’s soft lips. “You think always of him, and like him better than you do me!”
“No, indeed, Elfride. The feeling is different quite. But I do like him, and he deserves even more affection from me than I give.”
“You are not nice now, and you make me as jealous as possible!” she exclaimed perversely. “I know you will never speak to any third person of me so warmly as you do to me of him.”
“But you don’t understand, Elfride,” he said with an anxious movement. “You shall know him some day. He is so brilliant—no, it isn’t exactly brilliant; so thoughtful—nor does thoughtful express him—that it would charm you to talk to him. He’s a most desirable friend, and that isn’t half I could say.”
“I don’t care how good he is; I don’t want to know him, because he comes between me and you. You think of him night and day, ever so much more than of anybody else; and when you are thinking of him, I am shut out of your mind.”
“No, dear Elfride; I love you dearly.”
“And I don’t like you to tell me so warmly about him when you are in the middle of loving me. Stephen, suppose that I and this man Knight of yours were both drowning, and you could only save one of us——”
“Yes—the stupid old proposition—which would I save?