"I am very sorry to hear that," she said, gravely.
"And then he's such a good fellow," Mangan continued. "If he were selfish or cruel or grasping, one might think that a few buffets from the world might rather be of service to him; but as it is I don't understand at all how he has got himself into such a position—or been entrapped into it; you see, I don't know Miss Burgoyne very well—"
"Miss Burgoyne?" she repeated, doubtfully.
"Miss Burgoyne of the New Theatre."
Then Mangan watched his companion, timidly and furtively—which was a strange thing for him, for ordinarily his deep-set gray eyes were singularly intense and sincere.
"Perhaps I ought to tell you at once," he said, slowly, "that—that—the fact is, Lionel is engaged to be married to Miss Burgoyne."
"Lionel—engaged to be married?" she said, quickly, and she looked up. He met her eyes and read them; surely there was nothing there other than a certain pleased curiosity; she had forgotten that this engagement might be the cause of her cousin's trouble; she only seemed to think it odd that Linn was about to be married.
"Yes; and now I am afraid he regrets his rashness, and is in terrible trouble over it—or perhaps that is only one of several things. Well, I had made other forecasts for him," Mangan went on to say, with a little hesitation. "I could have imagined another future for him. Indeed, at one time, I thought that if ever he looked out for a wife it would be—a little nearer home—"
Her eyes were swiftly downcast; but the next instant she had bravely raised them and was regarding him.
"Do you mean me, Mr. Mangan?" she asked.