“It’s an awful sell,” said Adair, half angry, half laughing; “down to the last line, every one thinks it’s your place. Of course I always read to the last line before I say anything now. I’ve learned your little way.”
Verita laughed brightly.
“But isn’t it droll that directly I deny it, no one sees the real truth in the descriptions any more?”
“Y-e-s,” said the captain, looking into her pretty face; “and yet I wish that you wouldn’t—’pon my soul I do. You might consider me a little, I think. You know what a hard time I have. I’ve stood such a lot for you. We have all stood such a lot with you. The trouble is, you’re so much too clever for a woman. All women are nowadays. They’re going ahead of all the rules of the game. And you go ahead of all the rest of them.”
“Somebody must go ahead, or progress would cease,” said Lady Verita. “We’ve sat around quite a bit waiting for the men to do things lately, I think.”
“Oh, but we’d be so comfortable if progress ceased, don’t you think?” protested the captain. “Hang it all! if I don’t think that that progress cult is at the bottom of every trouble in the world these days. If everybody’s going to join in for progress, there never will be any peace any more. And as for women like you, Vera dear, if you ever do get the vote, you’ll find yourself a thorn in the side of your party. It’s that way with the clever men always: one has to give the country over to ’em just to keep ’em quiet.”
“I never shall have any party,” said Lady Verita, thoughtfully. “I don’t believe in party politics. I’ll believe in any party that will give even the devil his due. That’s all.”
“That would be the worst party of all,” said the captain; “that would be the kind that no one ever would know which lobby you’d see ’em in.” He stopped to shake his head sadly, for there seemed to him so much of which he should despair, and he, like most well-born Englishmen, did so long to be hopeful and happy! “I do wish you’d quit all this,” he continued, “and settle down like other girls. Some day I’ll get on my feet, and then we’ll tell every one. It really isn’t any of it my fault, you know.”
Lady Verita looked at him not unkindly,—he was a handsome fellow,—and was aware of a sincere wish that she were not so very much the cleverer of the two, or, at least, that he wouldn’t be so ready to admit it.
“I’m aiming to accomplish something,” she said, speaking almost as sadly as he had spoken. “When I’ve done it, I’ll cease writing; but I can’t before. You know that I never do anything very long, however, so I shall soon finish with this.”