“After all,” she said, “you will have every advantage. The best assistants and the latest machinery.”
“That’s true. But they’re liabilities. I mean they’ll be scored against me, and I’ll have to prove I’ve made the most efficient use of them. In a way, I’d rather make a start with poorer tools.”
“That sounds weak; and you’re not often so hesitating.”
“It’s something to know your limitations,” Aynsley answered. “Besides, I feel that I have to do you and the old man credit after the rather reckless confidence you have both shown in me.”
“I am sure mine was justified,” Ruth said softly.
Aynsley turned to her quickly. She was wonderfully attractive with her slender figure in light summer drapery outlined against the darkness of the surrounding pines; and the dusky background emphasized her fine coloring. Her face, however, was quietly grave. He could see no trace of the tender shyness he longed for, not even a hint of coquetry, which might have warranted some advance. He sometimes thought that Ruth did not know her power and had not quite awakened yet; but it was obvious that she had spoken in mere friendly kindness, and he must be content with that.
“Thank you,” he answered in a voice that was slightly strained. “I’ll certainly have to pull myself together and see what I can do.”
They heard his father calling and, turning back to the lawn, they found Clay ready to go. He had, he explained to Miss Dexter, only called for a word with Osborne, though he found it hard to tear himself away. She heard him with a twinkle in her eyes, and afterward watched him cross the lawn with his jaunty air. Somehow he made a more romantic figure than his handsome son.
“A man of many talents, I think,” she said. “One wonders whether he makes the best use of them.”
“That depends on one’s point of view; and it’s not our affair,” Osborne remarked.