really want to know what I think?" she said.

"I do." There was something uncompromising in the brief rejoinder, yet
somehow she did not find him formidable.

She answered him without difficulty in spite of her embarrassment. "I
think, then, that it isn't you yourself at all that I feel like that
about. It's just your profession."

"Ah!" He began to smile again. "Once live down that, and I might be
possible. Is that it?"

She nodded, still flushed, yet curiously not uneasy. "Something like
that. Why can't you be a farmer like Jack?"

"I wish I were," he said, unexpectedly.

"Why?" The word slipped out almost in spite of her, but she felt she must
have an answer.

He answered her with his eyes full on her. "Because I'd like to lead the
sort of life you would approve of," he said. "I've a notion it would be
worth while."

She turned aside from his look. "It's only a matter of opinion, of
course," she said.

"Is it?" he said. He turned his attention to the meal before him, and ate
rapidly for a few moments while he considered the matter. At length:
"Yes," he said. "I suppose you're right. Anyhow, you don't feel drawn