"No, you don't, that's certain. The mistake is to try to. You're wise in what you let alone, as a rule. But her nature you can't suffer to grow without fuss. There's a sound in your voice to her—afore the hands, too—like a servant to his mistress."
"I am her servant."
"Yes, I know; so am I also; but—well, no call to tramp the old ground. You might guess she'd look for gentleness and petting, yet——"
"She asks for it one moment, and grows impatient at it the next."
"Well, you'll learn a bit some day; but you've not got the build of mind to know much about women."
Myles sighed, and drummed his leg with a whip.
"It's all so small and petty and paltry—these shades and moods and niceties and subtleties."
"Women will have 'em."
"Well, I try."
"Go on trying. The world's full of these small things, speaking generally. You're built for big, heavy game. Yet it's your lot to catch gnats just now—for her. And she knows how hard you try. It'll come right when she's herself again. Life brims with such homespun, everyday fidgets. They meet a man at every turn."