"And you hadn't the strength of character," she said, scornfully, "to refuse."
"Pshaw, Jinny, a gentleman must be a gentleman. I'm no Yankee."
For a space Virginia answered nothing. Then she said, without changing her position:
"If you were, you might be worth something."
"Virginia!"
She did not reply, but sat gazing toward the water. He began to pace the veranda, fiercely.
"Look here, Jinny," he cried, pausing in front of her. "There are some things you can't say to me, even in jest."
Virginia rose, flicked her riding-whip, and started down the steps.
"Don't be a fool, Max," she said.
He followed her, bewildered. She skirted the garden, passed the orchard, and finally reached a summer house perched on a knoll at the edge of the wood. Then she seated herself on a bench, silently. He took a place on the opposite side, with his feet stretched out, dejectedly.