"You didn't tell my father what he was to do and not to do."
"Yes, sometimes—in social matters. It may surprise you to hear it, but your father was always ready to learn things that other people could tell him."
"Well, here are my concessions. Never mind what I said this afternoon—I was in a rage. I won't call you a servant again; I won't make you come to dinner when you don't want to; I won't demand that you meet my friends if you don't want to."
"That's very kind and handsome of you."
"Wait a minute. Now for my side. Mr. Austin, if you're not a servant here, neither are you a master. Oh, I know, you disclaim any such idea, but still—think over this afternoon! You can't stay here as a master. I daresay you think I want a master. I don't think so. If I do, I suppose I can marry!"
"For my own part I venture to hope you will marry—soon and very happily."
"But my father? 'Suspect and fear marriage.' 'You need fear no man except the man to whom you have given yourself.'"
"Your father's experience was, you know, unhappily not fortunate."
Her face clouded to melancholy. "I don't believe mine would be," she murmured. Then she raised her voice again and smiled. "Neither servant nor master—but friend, Mr. Austin?" And she held out her hand to me.
"I accept most heartily, and I'll try to keep the bargain." I put out my hand to take hers, but, as if on a sudden thought, she drew hers back.