"No? What do you call an educated woman, David?"
Helmsley thought a moment. The situation was a little difficult, for he had to be careful not to say too much.
"Well, I mean,"—he said, at last—"She is not a lady."
Reay's eyes flashed sudden indignation.
"Not a lady!" he ejaculated—"Good God! Who is a lady then?"
Helmsley glanced at him covertly. How fine the man looked, with his tall, upright figure, strong, thoughtful face, and air of absolute determination!
"I'm afraid,"—he murmured, humbly—"I'm afraid I don't know how to express myself,—but what I want to say is that she is not what the world would call a lady,—just a simple lace-mender,—real 'ladies' would not ask her to their houses, or make a friend of her, perhaps—"
"She's a simple lace-mender,—I was a common cowherd,"—said Angus, grimly—"Do you think those whom the world calls 'ladies' would make a friend of me?"
Helmsley smiled.
"You're a man—and to women it doesn't matter what a man was, so long as he is something. You were a cowherd, as you say—but you educated yourself at a University and got a degree. In that way you've raised yourself to the rank of a gentleman—"