“Oh, Laura! that was nothing. And Kitty Foster, that was different too.”
“But you were half mad about her once. Don’t you remember when she went away, what a state you were in and how you raged?”
“Ah, I was younger then,” replied Harry, with all the wisdom of his twenty-five years strong upon him.
“Is it because she is so pretty that you like Miss Ridgeway?” asked Llewellyn.
“That and heaps of other things.”
“Do you think she likes you?”
“Yes, I am nearly sure of it.”
“Well, then, I’m not,” said his brother shortly.
“But, my good man, how can you tell?” exclaimed Harry, rather nettled.
“She does not care for anything—at least, for nothing but herself.”