“I’ve used them all up, Annie, in the one tussle.”
“Then you must let them grow again, and go in for another tussle. You are young, and have courage and energy. If I were you, I would never rest until I had bought back the Grange.”
“I don’t believe you would!” said George, admiringly, as he watched the proud flashing of her eyes and the varying expression of her face. “But I am not like that. I could fight on doggedly for something which was being dragged away from me; but I haven’t it in me to begin a battle on my own account.”
“Then what do you mean to do?”
“I shall get some appointment where I can grow gray with respectability; my people can manage that, and they will. It is a scandal for a baronet to starve, you know. Why, you silly child, you are crying! Thank Heaven, Annie! I didn’t think you were so fond of me.”
“I’m not fond of you—I’m disgusted with you!” said Annie, fiercely, stiffening herself rigidly as he leaned toward her. “Why, do you know that even Harry shows more spirit than that?”
“What makes you say ‘even Harry?’” asked Sir George, quietly. “I could have told you long ago that Harry had pluck and spirit enough for six, in spite of his impossible manners and boorish conversation. If anybody buys back the Grange, it will be he.”
Annie listened with her cheeks tingling.
“When did you first begin to think all that of him?” she asked, in a low voice.
“I knew, when we were lads together, that there was something in him; but I own I lost sight of the fact while he led his loose, lazy life at the Grange after you had left him. But, when you left the Grange this last time—more than two months ago—he let me see his best side again one night when we were talking about you.”