Winston understood that while Courthorne's iniquities were not to be
brought up against him, the little gentle-voiced lady had but taken him
on trial; but, perhaps because it was so long since any woman had
spoken kindly words to him, his heart went out towards her, and he felt
a curious desire to compel her good opinion. Then he found himself
seated near the head of the long table, with Maud Barrington on his
other hand, and had an uncomfortable feeling that most of the faces
were turned somewhat frequently in his direction. It is also possible
that he would have betrayed himself, had he been burdened with
self-consciousness, but the long, bitter struggle he had fought alone,
had purged him of petty weaknesses and left him the closer grasp of
essential things, with the strength of character which is one and the
same in all men who possess it, whatever may be their upbringing.
During a lull in the voices, Maud Barrington, who may have felt it
incumbent on her to show him some scant civility, turned towards him as
she said, "I am afraid our conversation will not appeal to you. Partly
because there is so little else to interest us, we talk wheat
throughout the year at Silverdale."
"Well," said Winston with a curious little smile, "wheat as a topic is
not quite new to me. In fact, I know almost more about cereals than
some folks would care to do."
"In the shape of elevator warrants or Winnipeg market margins,
presumably?"
Winston's eyes twinkled, though he understood the implication.
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