making good, and a few years of self-denial do a man no harm. In fact, I
expect he's better for it afterwards. A fool can take life easily and do
himself well while his dollars last."

Charnock smiled sourly. "I've heard something of this kind before!
You're a Spartan; but suppose we admit that a man might stand the
strain, what about a woman?"

"That complicates the thing. I suppose you mean an Englishwoman?"

"I do. An Englishwoman of the kind you used to know at home, for
example. Could she live on rancid pork, molasses, and damaged flour? You
know the stuff the storekeepers supply their debtors. Would you expect
a delicately brought-up girl to cook for you, and mend and wash your
clothes, besides making hers? To struggle with chores that never end,
and be content, for months, with your society?"

Festing pondered. Life on a small prairie farm was certainly hard for
a woman; for a man it was bracing, although it needed pluck and
resolution. Festing had both qualities, perhaps in an unusual degree,
and his point of view was essentially practical. He had grappled with so
many difficulties that he regarded them as problems to be solved and
not troubles to complain about. He believed that what was necessary or
desirable must be done, no matter how hard it was. One considered only
the best way of removing an obstacle, not the effort of mind and body
it cost. Still, he could not explain this to Charnock; he was not a
moralizer or clever at argument.

Then half-consciously he fixed his eyes on the portrait which he had
often studied when the talk flagged. The girl was young, but there was