"Would you like to look at my sketches?" she asked. "They're jolly rubbish, the whole lot, but they represent a deal of enthusiasm."
Her tone was friendly—too friendly, considering the point at which he had paused, and he was a little hurt by it. Was she playing with him?
His tone was firm and his manner direct as he said: "Miss Brisbane, I am accustomed to deal directly with friends as well as enemies, and I like to have people equally frank with me. I know you are angry because of my action in the case of your uncle. I do not ask pardon for that; I was acting there in line of my duty. But if I have spoken harshly or without due regard to your feelings at any time I ask you to forgive me."
He made a powerful appeal to her at this moment, but she wilfully replied: "You made no effort to soften my uncle's disgrace."
"I didn't know he was your uncle at that time," he said, but his face grew grave quickly. "It would have made no difference if I had—my orders were to step between him and the records of the office. So far as my orders enlightened me, he was a man to be watched." He turned towards the door. "Is there anything I can do to help you reach the station to-morrow? My sister and I would gladly drive you down."
She was unrelenting, but very lovely as she replied: "Thank you; you are very kind, but all arrangements are made."
"Good-afternoon, Miss Brisbane."
"Good-bye, Captain Curtis."
"She is hard—hard as iron," he said, as he walked away. "Her father's daughter in every fibre."
He was ashamed to acknowledge how deeply he felt her rejection of his friendship, and the thought of not seeing her again gave him a sudden sense of weakness and loneliness.