"Don't flatter me too much, please," interjected the bashful Pomfret.
"Oh, pardon me, I know just the kind of man you are." The sweet face was very close to his own, the beautiful, rather sad eyes were looking steadily into his. "You are a rich man, or you would not be in this expensive regiment. But, if you were a poor man, and you had only ten pounds in your pocket, you would lend an impecunious friend five of them, and not trouble whether he repaid you or not."
"I think you have fitted me, Miss Burton. My dear old chum Hugh is never tired of telling me I am an awful ass."
"You are both right, really," answered Miss Burton.
"You see, we look at life from two different standpoints."
"I fancy you come from two different classes?" queried the charming young woman.
Pomfret felt a little embarrassed. He did not want to give away his particular chum. But there were no doubt certain inherited commercial instincts in Hugh that sometimes offended the descendant of a more careless and aristocratic family.
"You see, Hugh has come from the trading class, originally. His ancestors, no doubt, were close-fisted people. Hugh is not close-fisted himself: he is, in a certain way, the soul of generosity, but sometimes the old Adam peeps out in little things."
He had a swift pang of remorse when he had said this. For he suddenly remembered Hugh's generous offer of the two hundred which Pomfret, by a very diplomatic letter, was going to cajole out of the octogenarian great-aunt.
"Believe me," added he fervently, "Hugh is one of the best. He is a little peculiar sometimes in small things. I ought not to have spoken as I have done. I am more than sorry if I have conveyed a wrong impression of him."