He had come, indeed, to tell Felicia so, and he meant to
sleep there whatever her protests. He was preparing himself for
her objections, when she reentered the room.
"How is young Breen?" Miss Felicia asked in a whisper, closing the
door behind her. She had put Ruth to bed, where she had again
given way to an uncontrollable fit of weeping.
"Pretty weak. The doctor is with him now."
"What did the fool get up for?" She did not mean to surrender too
quickly about Jack despite his heroism--not to Peter, at any
rate. Then, again, she half suspected that Ruth's tears were
equally divided between the rescuer and the rescued.
"He couldn't help it, I suppose," answered Peter, with a gleam in
his eyes--"he was born that way."
"Born! What stuff, Peter--no man of any common-sense would have--"
"I quite agree with you, my dear--no man except a gentleman. There
is no telling what one of that kind might do under such
circumstances." And with a wave of his hand and a twinkle in his
merry scotch-terrier eyes, the old fellow disappeared below the
handrail.
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