st."

"I don't know why you should not have said it," he answered. "As a
matter of fact, you are quite right. I don't like you any the less
because you don't like me. Liking isn't a bargain with cash on delivery.
I think I like you all the more for being so honest. Do you mind?"

"Not in the least. It's a very good reason." Clare smiled, and then
suddenly looked grave again, wondering whether it would not be really
honest to tell him then and there that she had overheard his last
interview with Lady Fan.

But she reflected that it could only make him feel uncomfortable.

"And another reason why I like you is because you are combative," he
said thoughtfully. "I'm not, you know. One always admires the qualities
one hasn't oneself."

"And you are not combative? You don't like to be in the opposition?"

"Not a bit! I'm not fond of fighting. I systematically avoid a row."

"I shouldn't have thought that," said Clare, looking at him again. "Do
you know? I think most people would take you for a soldier."

"Do I look as though I would seek the bubble reputation at the cannon's
mouth?" Brook laughed. "Am I full of strange oaths?"

"Oh, that's ridiculous, you know!" exclaimed Clare. "I mean, you look as
though you would fight."

"I never would if I could help it. And so far I have managed 'to help
it' very well. I'm naturally mild, I think. You are not, you know. I
don't mean to be rude, but I think you are pugnacious--'combative' is
prettier."

"My father was a soldier," said the girl, with some pride.

"And mine is a brewer. There's a lot of inheritable difference between
handling gunpowder and brewing mild ale. Like father, like son. I shall
brew mild ale too. If you could have charged at Balaclava, you would. By
the way, it isn't the beer that you object to? Please tell me. I
shouldn't mind at all, and I'd much rather know that it was only that."

"How absurd!" cried Clare with scorn. "As though it made any
difference!"

"Well--what is it, then?" asked Brook with sudden impatience. "You have
no right to hate me without telling me why."

"No right?" The young girl turned on him half fiercely, and then
laughed. "You haven't a standing order from Heaven to be liked by the
whole human race, you know!"

"And if I had, you would be the solitary exception, I suppose,"
suggested Johnstone with a rather discontented smile.

"Perhaps."

"Is there anything I could do to make you change your mind? Because, if
it we