“No—not bully you,” he said slowly, as if objecting to the word rather than the idea. “That wouldn't be possible to me. But you don't know me well enough to understand me. I am the kind of man who gets the things he wants. Let me tell you something: When I was at Hadlow, I had never shot a pheasant in my life. I used to do tolerably well with a rifle, but I hardly knew anything about a shot-gun, and I don't suppose I'd ever killed more than two or three birds on the wing—and that was ages ago. But I took the notion that I would shoot better than anybody else there. I made up my mind to it—and I simply did it, that's all. I don't know if you remember—but I killed a good deal more than both the others put together. I give you that as an example. I wanted you to think that I was a crack shot—and so I made myself be a crack shot.”
“That is very interesting,” she murmured. They did not seem to be walking quite so fast.
“Don't think I want to brag about myself,” he went on. “I don't fancy myself—in that way. I'm not specially proud of doing things—it's the things themselves that I care for. If some men had made a great fortune, they would be conceited about it. Well, I'm not. What I'm keen about is the way to use that fortune so that I will get the most out of it—the most happiness, I mean. The thing to do is to make up your mind carefully what it is that you want, and to put all your power and resolution into getting it—and the rest is easy enough. I don't think there's anything beyond a strong man's reach, if he only believes enough in himself.”
“But aren't you confusing two things?” she queried. The subject apparently interested her. “To win one's objects by sheer personal force is one thing. To merely secure them because one's purse is longer than other people's—that's quite another matter.”
He smiled grimly at her. “Well, I'll combine the two,” he said.
“Then I suppose you will be altogether irresistible,” she said, lightly. “There will be no pheasants left for other people at all.”
“I don't mind being chaffed,” he told her, with gravity. “So long as you're good-natured, you can make game of me all you like. But I'm in earnest, all the same. I'm not going to play the fool with my money and my power. I have great projects. Sometime I'll tell you about them. They will all be put through—every one of them. And you wouldn't object to talking them over with me—would you?”
“My opinion on 'projects' is of no earthly value—to myself or anyone else.”
“But still you'd give me your advice if I asked it?” he persisted. “Especially if it was a project in which you were concerned?”
After a moment's constrained silence she said to him, “You must have no projects, Mr. Thorpe, in which I am concerned. This talk is all very wide of the mark. You are not entitled to speak as if I were mixed up with your affairs. There is nothing whatever to warrant it.”