"Yes," said her niece, with a little laugh which appeared to imply a
trace of resentment. "I believe I do, but he seemed unusually anxious
to relieve me of that impression. He was also good enough to hint that
nothing he might have done need prevent me being--the right word is a
trifle difficult to find--but I fancy he meant unpleasant to him if I
wished it."
There was a little twinkle in Miss Barrington's eyes. "Are you not a
trifle hard to please, my dear? Now, if he had attempted to insist on
a claim to your gratitude you would have resented it."
"Of course," said the girl reflectively. "Still, it is annoying to be
debarred from offering it. There are times, aunt, when I can't help
wishing that Lance Courthorne had never come to Silverdale. There are
men who leave nothing just as they found it, and whom one can't ignore."
Miss Barrington shook her head. "I fancy you are wrong. He has
offended, after all?"
She was pleased to see her niece's face relax into a smile that
expressed unconcern. "We are all exacting now and then," said the
girl. "Still, he made me promise to give him a fair trial, which was
not flattering, because it suggested that I had been unnecessarily
harsh, and then hinted this morning that he had no intention of holding
me to it. It really was not gratifying to find he held the concession
he asked for of so small account. You are, however, as easily swayed
by trifles as I am, because Lance can do no wrong since he kissed your
hand.
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