She was displeased at my show of heat.
“There’s no call for your defending to me your work over the mountains,” she coldly reminded. “As an old friend I was interested in you.”
“But tell me what you would consider to have been more important work,” I persisted. “I honestly believed I was working into your good opinion. I believed that once you knew how seriously I was taking life, you would be glad of me.”
“Poor Basdel,” she soothed. “I mustn’t scold you.”
“Pitying me is worse,” I corrected. “If you can’t understand a man doing a man’s work at least withhold your sympathy. I am proud of the work I have done.”
This ended her softer mood.
“You do right to think well of your work,” she sweetly agreed. “But there are men who also take pride in being leaders of affairs, of holding office and the like.”
“And going into trade,” I was rash enough to suggest.
With a stare that strongly reminded me of her father she slowly said:
“In trade? Why not? Trade is most honorable. The world is built up on trade. Men in trade usually have means. They have comfortable homes. They can give advantages to those dependent upon them. Trade? Why, the average woman would prefer a trader to the wanderer, who owns only his rifle and what game he shoots.”