Lloyd stole a quick glance at him to see if he were in earnest. The light tone seemed almost mocking, but the half-closed eyes gazing out across the lawn were serious enough, and she studied her reply a moment, feeling that maybe her opportunity had come at last.
"I think," she began timidly, "that the man who gets the most out of life is the one who makes most of himself—who starts out as they did in the old days to win his spurs and his accolade. Maybe you know the story of Edryn, the one that gave Warwick Hall its motto."
He nodded, with that slightly amused smile which always disconcerted her. "Yes, I know. That's Gay's pet war-cry—'Keep tryst.' But go on, I'd like to hear your version of it."
In the face of such an invitation she found it very hard to proceed, but after a moment's hesitation she said almost defiantly:
"Oh, I know you'll considah it a bit of school-girl sentiment to look at life in such a figurative way, but I think it's beautiful:
"'To duty and to sorrow,'" she quoted softly, "'to disappointment and defeat thou mayst be called. No matter what the tryst there is but one reply if thou wouldst win thy knighthood!'"
"But suppose one never hears any call," he asked teasingly. "Never feels the spirit move him to make any particular exertion."
"Then it's yoah own fault!" cried Lloyd. "It's just as it says in the legend. 'Only those will hear who wake at dawn to listen in high places, and only those will heed who keep the compass needle of their soul true to the North star of a great ambition!'"
"Pretty strenuous work, isn't that, for an August day?" he answered. "And that's all very well for poets and priests and young idealists to dream of, but when all's said and done, what's the good? What's the use?"