"You always have your own way?" she asked.
"By hook or by crook," he replied.
"But why do you want to—help me?" she asked. "Do you think you would find it amusing? You wouldn't." The laughter shone in her eyes again. "You would soon grow tired of it. It is not like hunting or fishing or golfing; it's work that tries the temper—I never knew what a fiendish temper I had got about me until the first time I had to drive a cow and calf."
"My temper couldn't be worse," he remarked, calmly. "Howard says that sometimes I could give points to the man possessed with seven devils."
"Who is Mr. Howard?" she asked.
"My own particular chum," he said. "He came down with me and is up at the house now. But never mind Howard; are you going to let me help you as if I were an old friend or a—brother? Or are you going to be unkind enough to refuse?"
She began to feel driven, and her brows knit as she said:
"I think you are very—obstinate, Mr. Orme."
"That describes me exactly," he said, cheerfully. "I'm a perfect mule when I like, and I'm liking it all I know at this moment."
"It's absurd—it's ridiculous, as I said," she murmured, half angrily, half laughingly, "and I can't think why you offered, why you want to—to help me!"