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Mr. Lynde to the Rescue

           

           "Whywon’tyoubefriendswithme,mysweetheart?Iknowyou’renothappyIcanseethat.NeitheramI.Ihaveawreckless,wretcheddispositionthatgetsmeintoallsortsofhell.Ineedsomeonetocareforme.Whywon’tyou?You’rejustmysort.Ifeelit.Doyoulovehimsomuch"—hewasreferringtoCowperwood—"thatyoucan’tloveanyoneelse?"

           "Oh,him!"retortedAileen,irritably,almostdisloyally."Hedoesn’tcareformeanymore.Hewouldn’tmind.Itisn’thim."

           "Well,then,whatisit?Whywon’tyou?AmInotinterestingenough?Don’tyoulikeme?Don’tyoufeelthatI’mreallysuitedtoyou?"Hishandsoughtherssoftly.

           Aileenacceptedthecaress.

           "Oh,itisn’tthat,"shereplied,feelingly,runningbackinhermindoverherlongcareerwithCowperwood,hisformerlove,hiskeenprotestations.Shehadexpectedtomakesomuchoutofherlifewithhim,andhereshewassittinginapublicrestaurantflirtingwithandextractingsympathyfromacomparativestranger.Itcuthertothequickforthemomentandsealedherlips.Hot,unbiddentearswelledtohereyes.

           Lyndesawthem.Hewasreallyverysorryforher,thoughherbeautymadehimwishtotakeadvantageofherdistress."Whyshouldyoucry,dearest?"heasked,softly,lookingatherflushedcheeksandcolorfuleyes."Youhavebeauty;youareyoung;you’relovely.He’snottheonlymanintheworld.

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