I didn't
tell you last night that I came near fainting in the pulpit during
the evening sermon."
She slipped her hand in his, looking up reproachfully at him out
of her dark eyes.
"Why didn't you tell me that, Frank?"
"I thought you had enough troubles last night. I'll run out on Long
Island and spend the day with Overman. You needn't frown. You are
strangely mistaken in him. I know you hate his brutal frankness,
and he is anything but a Christian, but we are old college chums,
and he's the clearest-headed personal friend I have. I need his
advice about my fight with Van Meter. Overman is a venomous critic
of my Social dreams. I've often wondered at your dislike of him,
when he so thoroughly echoes your feelings."
She was silent a moment, and gravely said: "Take a good day's rest,
then, and come back refreshed. I'll try to like even Mr. Overman,
if he will help you. I'm going to turn over a new leaf this morning."
He laughed, kissed her, and hurried to catch the train for Babylon,
where Overman lived in his great country home.
Mark Overman was a bacholer of forty, noted for the fact that he
had but one eye and was so homely it was a joke.
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