She moved restlessly in her chair, drawing a long breath or two.
'You say such strange things, sir. I do assure you, Mr. Falkirk, I am ensconced in the very middle of one of those classes. And that not the dangerous one,' she added with a laugh, though the flushes came very frankly. 'If that is what you are afraid of.'
'You are in about as dangerous a class as any I know,' said Mr. Falkirk, dryly; 'the class of people that everybody wants to marry. Miss Hazel, you are known to be the possessor of a very large propriety.'
'Am I, sir? And is that what makes me so attractive? I thought that there must be some explanation of so sweeping a compliment from your lips.'
A provoked little smile came upon Mr. Falkirk's lips, but they grew grave again.
'So, Miss Hazel, how are you to know the false magician from the true knight?'
'He must be a poor knight who would leave the trouble on my hands,' said the girl, with her young ideas strong upon her. 'If he does not prove himself, Mr. Falkirk, "I'll none of him!" '
'How shall a man prove to you that he does not want Chickaree and your money, my dear?'
'Instead of me. I think—I should know,' she answered slowly, so much absorbed in the question that she almost forgot its personal bearing. 'Mr. Falkirk, false and true cannot be just alike?'
'Remember that in both cases so much is true. The desire to win your favour, and therefore the effort to please, are undoubted.'