Sybert laughed. ‘No, Miss Marcia; I didn’t even try. I stayed because—I wanted to talk with you.’
She let the statement pass in silence, and Sybert addressed himself to a careful rearrangement of the burning wood. When he finally laid down the tongs he remarked in a casual tone, ‘I owe you an apology—will you accept it?’
‘What for?’
‘You appear to have several counts against me—suppose we don’t go into details. I offer a collective apology.’
‘Because you called me “the Wheat Princess”? Oh, yes, I’ll excuse it; I dare say you were justified.’
He leaned forward with a slight frown.
‘Certainly I was not justified; it was neither kind nor gentlemanly, and I am sorry that I said it. I can only promise to have better manners in the future.’
Marcia dismissed the subject with a gesture.
‘Let me tell you about the good your money has done.’
‘No, please don’t! I don’t want to hear. I know that it’s horrible, and that you did the best with it possible. I’m glad if it helped. My father is sending some wheat that will be here in a few weeks.’