"But you'll take them?"
"Hush, Mary! Mr. Starke, I may come and see you to-morrow, you said? We'll arrange matters,"—with a hearty tone.
Starke touched his hat with the air of an old-school gentleman.
"I shall be happy to see you, Sir,—very happy. You will allow me to wish you good evening?"—smiling. "I am not well,"—with the same meaningless look.
"Certainly,"—shaking hands earnestly. "I wish I could induce you to stay and have a talk over your future prospects, eh? But to-morrow—I will be down early to-morrow. Your young friend gave me the address. The model—we'll have that sent down to-morrow, too."
Starke stopped.
"The model," without, however, looking at it. "Yes. It can go to-night. I should prefer that. Andrew will bring an express-wagon for it,"—fumbling in his pocket.
"I have the exact change," said Miss Defourchet, eagerly; "let me pay the express."
Starke's face colored and grew pale again.
"You mistake me," he said, smiling.