"I think," said Colonel Barrington, "you heard my answer. I am inclined to fancy that such a measure would not be advisable or fitting, Mr. Courthorne. You, however, presumably know very little about the practical aspect of the wheat question."
Winston smiled. "On the contrary, I know a great deal."
"You do?" said Barrington sharply, and while a blunderer would have endeavored to qualify his statement, Winston stood by it.
"You are evidently not aware, sir, that I have tried my hand at farming, though not very successfully."
"That at least," said Barrington dryly, as he rose, "is quite creditable."
When they went into the smaller room, Winston crossed over to where Maud Barrington sat alone, and looked down upon her gravely. "One discovers that frankness is usually best," he said. "Now, I would not like to feel that you had determined to be unfriendly with me."
Maud Barrington fixed a pair of clear brown eyes upon his face, and the faintest trace of astonishment crept into them. She was a woman with high principles, but neither a fool nor a prude, and she saw no sign of dissolute living there. The man's gaze was curiously steady, his skin clear and brown, and his sinewy form suggested a capacity for, and she almost fancied an acquaintance with, physical toil. Yet he had already denied the truth to her. Winston, on his part, saw a very fair face with wholesome pride in it, and felt that the eyes which were coldly contemptuous now could, if there was a warrant for it, grow very gentle.
"Would it be of any moment if I were?" she said.
"Yes," said Winston quietly. "There are two people here it is desirable for me to stand well with, and the first of them, your aunt, has, I fancy, already decided to give me a fair trial. She told me it was for my mother's sake. Now, I can deal with your uncle, I think."
The girl smiled a little. "Are you quite sure? Everybody does not find it easy to get on with Colonel Barrington. His code is somewhat Draconic, and he is rather determined in his ways."