'
'Is Mr. Melville a friend of yours?'
'No, he is not. I never saw him until he came to the meeting.'
'Do you know,' she said, lowering her voice and bending towards him,
'that I do not like Mr. Melville's face?' Kenyon glanced at Melville, who
was at the other side of the room, and Edith went on: 'You must not look
at people when I mention them in that way, or they will know we are
talking about them. I do not like his face. He is too handsome a man, and
I don't like handsome men.'
'Don't you, really,' said John; 'then, you ought to----'
Edith laughed softly, a low, musical laugh that was not heard above the
piano din, and was intended for John alone, and to his ears it was the
sweetest music he had ever heard.
'I know what you were going to say,' she said; 'you were going to say
that in that case I ought to like _you_. Well, I do; that is why I am
taking such an interest in your mine, and in your friend Mr. Wentworth.
And so my cousin volunteered to go to Canada. Now, I think you ought to
go yourself.'
'Why?' said Kenyon, startled that she should have touched the point that
had been discussed between Wentworth and himself.
'I can only give you a woman's reason--"because I do." It seems to me you
ought to be there to know what they report at the time they _do_ report.
Perhaps they won't understand the mine without your explanation, and then
you see an adverse report might come back in perfect good faith. I think
you ought to go to America, Mr.
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