Rufus closed his eyes and laughed softly. "The little scare-away American got in the first shot, that's evident," he chuckled, and he kept on smiling to himself at intervals during the day.
The afternoon was beginning to wear away before Madeline put in an appearance. She came into the room like a breath of spring—gentle, fragrant, energising. She was not at all shy, neither was she obtrusive. There was never anything self-conscious in her movements. She was trying to be kind, trying to pay in some measure a big debt of gratitude she owed, and she was supremely happy in making the attempt.
"Do you know, I feel real pleased with myself to-day," she said, in her quaint American way.
"Do you?" he questioned.
"Seems to me living up in a big house like Trewinion Hall, one has scarcely a chance of being kind or neighbourly, and when the chance does come, it seems great."
"Do you think exclusiveness and selfishness mean the same thing?"
"I don't know. That's a sum I haven't figured out yet. But what would you like me to read to you?"
"Anything you like. I fear you will not consider my stock of books very interesting."
"Have they all to do with science and mechanics, and that sort of thing?"