gible, I am never quite sure about you. But there, of course you don't care what I feel about you; the blind of Miss Ruysdale's stateroom is infinitely more interesting to you than anything I can say."
Philip looked penitent, and made an effort to keep his eyes from wandering in the direction of Margaret's room.
"You really love her so much?"
"You know," he answered simply.
"Yes, and I know she is n't worthy of it." She was irritated, and spoke sharply.
"It hurts me to hear you say that, dear friend," he protested.
"She 's a good, sweet, honest girl," Mrs. Harden continued, "but she no more appreciates you, nor the worth of what you give her, than a royal baby knows the value of his jewelled coral. He breaks it just as carelessly as another child smashes a twopenny rattle. Margaret plays with your heart just as if it were not a solid lump of refined gold, but a miserable pinchbeck thing, like most men's hearts, to be gilded and regilded any number of times to suit the requirements of each new passion."
"If it is hers to do as she likes with?"
"But she will neither take it nor leave it. I know just what she will do,—she will trifle with it till—"
