"Excuse me, we will say plenty more. I would do a great deal to keep you here, there's no doubt of that. If I must, I must, I suppose! You may have the place—though I'm fond of it still."
"It must be quite fair?" she said, looking at him hesitatingly.
"You mean that I am not to come back and hang about in the neighborhood? Oh, rest content; I've had enough of the Seminole for a lifetime."
"I presume you will be in a hurry," he went on. "You will expect to have the deeds made out to-morrow."
"Yes, I should rather have it done soon."
"Of course.—How you hate me!" He rose.
She did not speak.
"But I'm not surprised—stubborn fool, ineffable prig as I must have seemed to you all these years! Take the place. And I'll go."
The gate clicked, Celestine was coming towards them.
"But though I acknowledge my own faults, don't imagine I admire such perfection as you always exhibit," he went on. "It's too much, you're too faultless; some small trace of womanly humility would be a relief, sometimes." He left the garden. Celestine, coming up, found her patient looking anything but rested. The next moment she put her hand over her eyes, physical weakness had conquered her.