"Anything that doesn't tax one's brain severely. Yourself, for example."
"I'm not sure that's flattering, and it's an indifferent topic; but I won't back out. As I gave you your choice, I must take the consequences."
"Are you always ready to do that?" There was a tiny hint of seriousness in her voice.
"Well," he said with some dryness, "I generally try."
There was something that reminded her of George in his expression. The man, she thought, would redeem what pledge he gave; he might be guilty of rashness, but he would not slink away when the reckoning came. Then she became conscious of a half-tender regret. It was a pity that George was so fond of the background, and left it only when he was needed, while Brand was a prominent figure wherever he went, and this was, perhaps, the one of his characteristics which most impressed her. Then he rather modestly began the brief account of his career, adding scraps of information about his relatives, who were people of station. He did not enlarge upon several points that were in his favor, but he omitted to state that he had now and then been on the verge of a financial crisis.
Sylvia listened with keen interest, and asked a few questions to help him on; but when he finished she let the subject drop. Soon afterward she glanced down the road, which was growing dim.
"I wish your man would come. It's getting late," she said.
"He can't be much longer. I don't think you need be disturbed."
"I am disturbed," Sylvia declared. "I really shouldn't have come to-day; you will remember I hesitated."
"Then it was a temptation?"