wer of making it more than an accidental acquaintance lies with
you," he said quietly.

"I have always had an idea that aggression was a man's prerogative,"
Victoria answered lightly. "And seeing that you have not appeared at
Fairview for something over a year, I can only conclude that you do not
choose to exercise it in this case."

Austen was in a cruel quandary.

"I did wish to come," he answered simply, "but--the fact that I have had
a disagreement with your father has--made it difficult." "Nonsense"
exclaimed Victoria; "just because you have won a suit against his
railroad. You don't know my father, Mr. Vane. He isn't the kind of man
with whom that would make any difference. You ought to talk it over with
him. He thinks you were foolish to take Zeb Meader's side."

"And you?" Austen demanded quickly.

"You see, I'm a woman," said Victoria, "and I'm prejudiced--for Zeb
Meader. Women are always prejudiced,--that's our trouble. It seemed to me
that Zeb was old, and unfortunate, and ought to be compensated, since he
is unable to work. But of course I suppose I can't be expected to
understand."

It was true that she could not be expected to understand. He might not
tell her that his difference with Mr. Flint was not a mere matter of
taking a small damage suit against his railroad, but a fundamental one.
And Austen recognized that the justification of his attitude meant an
arraignment of Victoria's father.

"I wish you might know my father better, Mr. Vane," she went on, "I wish
you might know him as I know him, if it were possible. You see, I have
been his constant companion all my life, and I think very few people
understand him as I do, and realize his fine qualities. He makes no
attempt to show his best side to the world. His life has been spent in
fighting, and I am afraid he is apt to meet the world on that footing. He
is a man of such devotion to his duty that he rarely has a day to
himself, and I have known him to sit up until the small hours of the
morning to settle some little matter of justice. I do not think I am
betraying his confidence when I say that he is impressed with your
ability, and that he liked your manner the only time he ever talked to
you. He believes that you have got, in some way, a wrong idea of what he
is trying to do. Why don't you come up and talk to him again?"

"I am afraid your kindness leads you to overrate my importance," Austen
replied, with mingled feelings. Victoria's conf