"You are evidently not aware, sir, that I have tried my hand at
farming, though not very successfully."
"That at least," said Barrington dryly, as he rose, "is quite
creditable."
When they went into the smaller room, Winston crossed over to where
Maud Barrington sat alone, and looked down upon her gravely. "One
discovers that frankness is usually best," he said. "Now, I would not
like to feel that you had determined to be unfriendly with me."
Maud Barrington fixed a pair of clear brown eyes upon his face, and the
faintest trace of astonishment crept into them. She was a woman with
high principles, but neither a fool nor a prude, and she saw no sign of
dissolute living there. The man's gaze was curiously steady, his skin
clear and brown, and his sinewy form suggested a capacity for, and she
almost fancied an acquaintance with, physical toil. Yet he had already
denied the truth to her. Winston, on his part, saw a very fair face
with wholesome pride in it, and felt that the eyes which were coldly
contemptuous now could, if there was a warrant for it, grow very gentle.
"Would it be of any moment if I were?" she said.
"Yes," said Winston quietly. "There are two people here it is
desirable for me to stand well with, and the first of them, your aunt,
has, I fancy, already decided to give me a fair trial. She told me it
was for my mother's sake. Now, I can deal with your uncle, I think."
The girl smiled a little. "Are you quite sure? Everybody does not
find it easy to get on with Colonel Barrington.
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