He was strong, passionate, with a conscience of an
almost puritanical order, and somehow she felt that a little softening,
a little leavening of human weakness would have been all to the good.
But this understanding made no difference to her woman's regard, unless
it were to strengthen it to a sort of gentle worship such as woman is
always ready to yield to strength. It required no effort upon her part
to picture this man in the heroic mould of a Spartan warrior.
"'_That_,'" she replied, with a whimsical smile, "is a man, who most
generally seems to fancy his own way of doing things." Then she shook
her head as her arm slipped protectingly around the big man's bronzed
neck. "I don't guess a woman's argument ever made a man see things
different yet. What's he done, Jeff?"
Jeff laughed without humor.
"Done?" he exclaimed. Then, with a shake of the head: "It's not what
he's done. Guess it's what he hasn't done, and what he don't seem to
figure to do. I'd kind of raised a hope when I saw you in the window.
But--well, it was only her father's daughter that came in, I guess.
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