"You're a bully fellow," he exclaimed in a tone of sincerity, but not entirely free from the false echo of his laugh, "and I'd love to tell you were you not certain to be bored stiff with it. Let me ask you, instead, what you're thinking about in this charmed circle?"
"I'm sure you'd be bored stiff," she drily answered.
He waited a moment. Then:
"It wasn't very courteous of me, I know; but, as a matter of fact, I was just having something out with myself. I've—I haven't been fair to someone; and I'm sorry. So I can't tell you lest I betray."
She sat more erect with a shade of her former sympathy, asking as though it had been a debatable point:
"Then you have a conscience?"
"I have a sense of proportion," he answered. "That's more logical than a conscience."
"Will you ever exercise it for those poor mountain people of mine, who are starving for civilization?"
"I already do—all sorts of ways."
He had himself in hand now, and, crossing over, sat down by her.