"I had to do things out there"—his nod was meant to indicate the direction of South America—"in a somewhat high-handed manner, and I've acquired the habit of it. If I'd stuck at difficulties I shouldn't have got anywhere."
She looked at him inquiringly, as though to ask the purport of the observation.
"You must see that I'm obliged to put this thing through—on Evie's account as much as mine. After getting her to care for me, I can't desert her now, whatever happens."
"She wouldn't suffer—after a while. She'd get over it. You might not, but she—"
"She shall not get over it, if I can help it. How can you ask me to let her?"
"Only on the ground that you love her well enough."
"Would you call that love?"
"In view of all the circumstances, it would be my idea of it."
"Then it wouldn't be mine. The only love I understand is the love that fights for its object, in the face of all opposition."
She looked at him a minute with what she tried to make a smile, but which became no more than a quivering of the lip and lashes.