He turned quickly, and his gloomy eyes stared down into her uplifted face.
"O George!" he muttered. "Can you honestly say that?"
"Honestly. I know how it happened. You couldn't help it. It was meant to be. The other—wasn't. That's all there is of it."
"I've been feeling such a sneak."
"Why should you? I've told you over and over——"
"I know you have. But—that last time——"
"That was really the beginning of—this other," said she with decision. "You were not yourself and you didn't know just why. You thought it must be because you cared for me, but it was—the stirring of your first real feeling for any woman, only you didn't recognize it. That's the whole thing, Jimps, and you are not to reproach yourself, particularly now when——" She faltered suddenly, and he drew a quick breath that was as if something stabbed him.
After a little he began very slowly: "It didn't really happen till—Devonshire. Those two weeks—I can't tell you. No mortal man could have resisted her. Yet I tried; I did, George. She didn't know about you; she never has, except that we were old friends and dear ones. She thinks the trouble is that she's a rich man's daughter and I'm only a farmer."
"You're no ordinary farmer and she knows it. Her family know it. And if she wants you she'll have you; they've never refused her anything."