s
to his. "No doubt you had plenty of excuse, but that doesn't
really justify you. At least--I don't think so."

He met her look in his usual direct fashion. Those eagle eyes of
his sent a little tremor through her. There was a caged fierceness
about them that strangely stirred her.

He spoke after the briefest pause with absolute gentleness. "All
right, little pal! It's decent of you to put it like that. You're
quite wrong, but that's a detail. You'll change your views when
you've been in the country a little longer. Now forget it, and
come for a ride!"

It was disarmingly kind, and Sylvia softened in spite of herself.
She put her hand on his arm. "Burke, you won't do it again?" she
said.

He smiled a little. "It won't be necessary for some time to come.
If you did the same to Fair Rosamond now and then you would
marvellously improve her. Idle little cuss!"

"I never shall," said Sylvia with emphasis.

He heaved a sigh. "Then I shall have to kick her out I suppose. I
can see she is wearing your temper to a fine edge."

She bit her lip for a second, and then laughed. "Oh, go away, do?
You're very horrid. Rose may be trying sometimes, but I can put up
with her."

"You can't manage her," said Burke.

"Anyway, you are not to interfere," she returned with spirit.
"That's my department."

He abandoned the discussion. "Well, I leave it to you, partner.
You're not to sit here mending shirts anyhow. I draw the line at
that."

Sylvia's delicate chin became suddenly firm. "I never leave a
thing unfinished," she said. "You will have to ride alone this
evening."

"I refuse," said Burke.

She opened her eyes wide. "Really"--she began.

"Yes, really," he said. "Put the thing away! It's a sheer fad to
mend it at all. I don't care what I wear, and I'm sure you don't."

"But I do," she protested. "You must be respectable."

"But I am respectable--whatever I wear," argued Burke. "It's my
main characteristic."

His brown hand began to draw the garment in dispute away from her,
but Sylvia held it tight.

Burke, don't--please--be tiresome! Every woman mends her
husband's clothes if there is no one else to do it. I want to do
it. There!"

"You don't like doing it!" he challenged.

"It's my duty," she maintained.

He gave her an odd look. "And do you always do--your duty?"

"I try to," she said.

"Always?" he insisted.

Something in his eyes gave her pause. She wanted to turn