“You must have known your creditors would pull you up unless you came to terms with them, but one would expect you to please yourself about getting married.”
“I'm not sure your joke's in good taste,” Charnock answered sullenly. “But in a way, one thing depended on the other. Perhaps I oughtn't to have said so, but I'm upset to-night. Though I did expect to be pulled up, it was a knock.”
“No doubt. Are you going to marry Sadie?”
“I am. Have you any reason to disapprove?”
“Certainly not,” said Festing. “Sadie's rather a friend of mine.”
In a sense, this was true. When Festing first came to the prairie from a mountain construction camp, where he had not seen a woman for twelve months, he had felt Sadie's charm. Moreover, he imagined that the girl liked him and consciously used her power, although with a certain reserve and modesty. For all that, he fought against his inclination and conquered without much effort. Marriage had not much attraction for him, but if he did marry, he meant to choose a wife of a different type.
“Sadie's a very good sort,” Charnock resumed. “She knows what we are, and doesn't expect too much; not the kind of girl to make ridiculous demands. In fact, Sadie can make allowances.”
Festing thought this was doubtful praise, although it bore out his opinion of the girl. For all that, Sadie might not be so willing to make allowances for her husband as for a lover of whom she was not quite sure.
“Perhaps that kind of thing has advantages,” he said. “But I don't know—”
“I do know,” said Charnock; “I've tried the other way. The feeling that you're expected to keep on a high plane soon gets tiresome; besides, it isn't natural. It's better to be taken for what you are.”