Do you know that her confidence almost
hurts me?"
"Then why don't you vindicate it and yourself? Dane would be your
mouthpiece, and two or three words would be sufficient."
Winston made no answer for a space. Somebody was singing in the room
behind them, and through the open window he could see the stars in the
soft indigo above the great sweep of prairie. He noticed them vacantly
and took a curious impersonal interest in the two dim figures standing
close together outside the window. One was a young English lad, and
the other a girl in a long white dress. What they were doing there was
no concern of his, but any trifle that diverted his attention a moment
was welcome in that time of strain, for he had felt of late that
exposure was close at hand, and was fiercely anxious to finish his work
before it came. Maud Barrington's finances must be made secure before
he left Silverdale, and he must remain at any cost until the wheat was
sold.
Then he turned slowly towards her. "It is not your aunt's confidence
that hurts me the most."
The girl looked at him steadily, the color a trifle plainer in her
face, which she would not turn from the light, and a growing wonder in
her eyes.
"Lance," she said, "we both know that it is not misplaced. Still, your
impassiveness does not please us."
Winston groaned inwardly and the swollen veins showed on his forehead.
His companion had leaned forward a little so that she could see him,
and one white shoulder almost touched his own.
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