"I know that now," he agreed.
"Then there must be a truce. For her sake all signs of the strife between us must be suppressed. She may ask me about you; and you about me. She has grown to care for me in the last few days; and it will help her recovery if we can make her believe the trouble that divides us all is ended. It rests with us to give her this ease of mind."
"I am not quite the brute you seem to think," he answered.
"I have my own opinion of you and am not likely to alter it—but for her sake I am willing to pretend."
"You are very frank."
"The terms of our truce are agreed, then?"
"Just as you please," he said, with a shrug.
"There is another thing to be done, somehow. Her father must be brought to agree also."
"Shall I go on my knees to him?" he sneered.
"I care not how it is done so long as it is done. But her mind is distracted by the thought of the breach between you two—and of her need to choose between you."