“I can’t understand it,” said Joe, gloomily. “There never seemed to be two people more perfectly made for each other than Jim and Clara--always excepting ourselves,” he hastened to add, as he pressed her hand--“and it will be one of the greatest blows of my life if there should be any break between them. Clara seemed to be dead in love with Jim; and as for him, he fairly worships the ground she walks on. When he gets one of her letters, he’s dead to the world. And he’s one of the finest fellows that ever breathed. I look on him as a brother. He hasn’t any bad habits, is as straight as a string, a splendid specimen of manhood, handsome, well educated--what on earth could any girl ask for more? And he’s making a splendid income too. Has Clara suddenly gone crazy?”