“Mr Rubb,” said she, “if you please, I’d rather not talk about such things as that.”

“Nevertheless, what I say is true, Miss Mackenzie; I hope you don’t take it amiss that I venture to feel an interest about you.”

“Oh! no,” said she; “not that I suppose you do feel any special interest about me.”

“But indeed I do, and isn’t it natural? If you will remember that your only brother is the oldest friend that I have in the world, how can it be otherwise? Of course he is much older than me, and very much older than you, Miss Mackenzie.”

“Just twelve years,” said she, very stiffly.

“I thought it had been more, but in that case you and I are nearly of an age. As that is so, how can I fail to feel an interest about you? I have neither mother, nor sister, nor wife of my own; a sister, indeed, I have, but she’s married at Singapore, and I have not seen her for seventeen years.”

“Indeed.”

“No, not for seventeen years; and the heart does crave for some female friend, Miss Mackenzie.”

“You ought to get a wife, Mr Rubb.”

“That’s what your brother always says. ‘Samuel,’ he said to me just before I left town, ‘you’re settled with us now; your father has as good as given up to you his share of the business, and you ought to get married.’ Now, Miss Mackenzie, I wouldn’t take that sort of thing from any man but your brother; it’s very odd that you should say exactly the same thing too.”

“I hope I have not offended you.”

“Offended me! no, indeed, I’m not such a fool as that. I’d sooner know that you took an interest in me than any woman living. I would, indeed. I dare say you don’t think much of it, but when I remember that the names of Rubb and Mackenzie have been joined together for more than twenty years, it seems natural to me that you and I should be friends.”

Miss Mackenzie, in the few moments which were allowed to her for reflection before she was obliged to answer, again admitted to herself that he spoke the truth. If there was any fault in the matter the fault was with her brother Tom, who had joined the name of Mackenzie with the name of Rubb in the first instance. Where was this young man to look for a female friend if not to his partner’s family, seeing that he had neither wife nor mother of his own, nor indeed a sister, except one out at Singapore, who was hardly available for any of the purposes of family affection? And yet it was hard upon her. It was through no negligence on her part that poor Mr Rubb was so ill provided. “Perhaps it might have been so if I had continued to live in London,” said Miss Mackenzie; “but as I live at Littlebath—” Then she paused, not knowing how to finish her sentence.