“You cherished a grudge against me a good while, and if you hadn’t happened to overdo it you’d be still bearing malice, I suppose.”
“And because you overdid it this morning you’re able to pardon me now. I see the process of your reasoning. Well, hereafter I shall not offend you by smiling; I’m going to frown at everything you do.”
“No, don’t do that! I want you to be very kind to me.”
“Yes? How is a gentleman to be kind to a lady?”
“Everything depends upon character and circumstance. If she isn’t the wisest of her sex—so few of us are—and has been used to doing and saying quite what she pleased, without regard to consequences, and she finds herself in a position where circumspection is her duty, he ought to look about for her and guard her.”
“From what?”
“Oh—hawks, and lynxes, and—cats. They’re everywhere.”
Mrs. Farrell sat down on the benching and drew from her pocket the balls of worsted which she had loosely rolled in a handkerchief, together with some knitting already begun, and went on with the work, while Gilbert stood before her, looking down at her.
“You oughtn’t to have helped me with these this morning,” she said, pushing the little balls about and sorting them for the right colors.
“You asked me to do it!”