"I did all I possibly could," said Farnham. "I have never tried so hard
for anybody before, but a majority were already pledged to the other
applicant."

She seemed so dejected and hopeless that Farnham, forgetting for a
moment how hard it is for a young man to assist a young woman, said two
or three fatal words, "We must try something else."

The pronoun sounded ominous to him as soon as he had uttered it. But it
acted like magic upon Maud. She lifted a bright glance through her
tears and said, like a happy child to whom a new game has been
proposed, "What shall we try?"

Simple as the words were, both of them seemed to feel that a certain
relation--a certain responsibility--had been established between them.
The thought exhilarated Maud; it seemed the beginning of her
long-expected romance; while the glow of kind feeling about the heart
of Farnham could not keep him from suspecting that he was taking a
very imprudent step. But they sat a good while, discussing various
plans for Maud's advantage, and arriving at nothing definite; for her
own ideas were based upon a dime-novel theory of the world, and
Farnham at last concluded that he would be forced finally to choose
some way of life for his protegee, and then persuade her to accept it.

He grew silent and thoughtful with this reflection, and the
conversation languished. He was trying to think how he could help her
without these continued interviews at his house, when she disposed of
the difficulty by rising briskly and saying, "Well, I will call again
in a day or two, about this hour?"