“I'm not sure I see your drift,” said Festing impatiently. “What's your explanation for our being here?”
Charnock's eyes twinkled. “If you want the truth, it's because you're something of an obstinate ass. Wilkinson had really nothing to do with it, and the weather hasn't much. Your pride brought you and keeps you. You took the wrong line with Helen, and then, knowing you were wrong, couldn't force yourself to accept her help. However, I'll admit that we are a pair of fools. I could have spent a lazy winter at the homestead if I'd liked.”
“You came to look for me,” Festing remarked with feeling.
“I did, but stayed to please myself. Thought I'd show Sadie what I could do; felt virtuous about it at the time, but begin to suspect that vanity pushed me on. Sadie would, no doubt, sooner have me safe at home. Anyhow, I think I've proved my argument—we're here, doing unthinkable things, freezing, sweating, getting thin, because of our own stupidity.”
“In a way, that is so,” Festing agreed. “Still, I can't go back until I have finished this job.”
“Perhaps you had better not,” said Charnock dryly. “I imagine you wouldn't be easy to live with it you felt you had come home because you had failed. You might make good resolutions, but the thing would spoil your temper all the same. The pinch comes when you try to carry good resolutions out.”
Festing got up and threw fresh wood on the fire. “If you have finished philosophizing, we'll talk about something else.”
“I'm not going to talk about logs and wages,” Charnock replied.
“Very well. You haven't told me much about Wilkinson. He seems a clever rascal. Do you think we have ground for being afraid of him?”
“I don't imagine he'd run much risk or make a sacrifice for the sake of getting his revenge; that kind of thing isn't often done by normal people. All the same, he doesn't like us, and if he found he could do us an injury without much trouble, I dare say he'd seize the chance. On the whole, it might be prudent to watch him. Now we'll let the matter go.”