The haste to send her upon her way now had but one interpretation—the recognition of his own immediate danger, the fear that if this tender association continued, he would end in offering her a calamity quite as impossible as that which had happened—the love of a man who was in all probability older than her father! The hurt was no less intensive because it was so ridiculous. “Thank Heaven, they are bringing the hors d’oeuvres. ” She said to him. "Ah! now we come to business," returned Jonathan, rubbing his hands, gleefully. For a few minutes all was silent. “This life is killing me! Oh, it is dull, dull, dull!” Suddenly an idea seemed to strike her.
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