"You are unhappy," said Randolph; "and I think I know why." He meant to
advance toward the problem as if it were a case of jealousy--a matter of
Pearson's intrusion and of Amy's seemingly willing acceptance of it.
Cope soon caught Randolph's idea, and he stared. He did not at all resent
Randolph's advances; misapprehension, in fact, might serve as fairly, in
the end, as the clearest understanding.
Randolph placed his hand on Cope's shoulder. "You have only to assert
yourself," he said. "The other man is an intruder; it would be easy to warn
him off before he starts in to win her."
"George Pearson?" said Cope. "Win her? In heaven's name," he blurted out,
"let him!"
It was a cry of distaste and despair, in which no rival was concerned.
Randolph now had the situation in its real lines.
"Well, this is no place for a talk," he said. "If you should care to happen
in on me some evening before long...."
"I have Wednesday," returned Cope, with eagerness.
"Not Wednesday. I have an engagement for that evening. But any evening a
little later."
"Friday? The worst of my week's work is over by then.
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