"I think so," he answered with a forced smile. "Anyway, I'll try, and I'd like you to be happy. But it wouldn't be flattering if I pretended that I wasn't hurt."
"Ah," she exclaimed, "you were always so generous!"
He stood silent a moment or two looking at her.
She had cunningly tricked him and killed his love; but she was very attractive with her pretty, helpless air. He knew this was false, but there was no profit in bitterness; he would not cause her pain.
"It's more to the purpose that I'm hard, which is fortunate in several ways. But I came to talk about the farm; that is why I suggested that Captain Bland should be present."
"The farm?" Sylvia regarded him with a trace of mockery. "That you should think of it is so characteristic of you!"
George smiled.
"I can't help my matter-of-fact nature, and I've found it serviceable. Anyway, the farm must be thought of." He laid a hand gently on her shoulder. "Sylvia, I'm told that Bland isn't rich. If he loves you, take him fully into your confidence."
She blushed, which he had scarcely expected.
"I have done so—at least, I allowed Herbert to explain—there is nothing hidden." Then her tone changed to one of light raillery. "You were always an extremist, George; you can't hit the happy medium. Once you believed I was everything that was most admirable, and now—"