"I don't think I quite realized that you were such friends!"
"I like him," said Ogilvie. "I like him mighty well. He's a chap
who's not afraid to be fine. I tell you, it was a surprise to me to
find him that sort--Benson Flood. You know, the name seems to suggest
bonanzas, show and glitter, crudeness, perhaps a little--well--not what
he is, anyway."
"But, surely, you have only seen him--twice, three times, isn't it?
How can you possibly know all that about him?"
He smiled. "Oh, men don't always have to _learn_ each other, as they
would lessons, you know. I know what Flood is as well as if I had
known him for years--and I like him as well, too!"
She looked at his enthusiastic face a little wonderingly. "Women are
not like that," she said. "We--I don't think we--believe in our
friends, as men do!"
"Oh, come now! Why don't you?"
"Because we don't. And because we don't deserve it. Why, you talk
about Mr. Flood, who is certainly a new friend, to say the least, as if
you would make any sacrifice for him! Women wouldn't do that for each
other."
He could not guess that her touch of bitterness was due to her new
humility--the humility she was so rapidly learning through her
experiences here in the mountains; certainly he was far from seeing
that he had himself done much to teach it to her, even during the past
hour, when he had seemed to look upon her wealth as of small
significance; now he was putting far more emphasis upon the fineness of
character of Flood, the man she had so lightly esteemed.
"I fancy Mrs. Reeves would have something to say to that," said Ogilvie.
"Oh, Eleanor! Eleanor is my exception, of course! We all have our
exceptions. But aside from Eleanor, there is no one else for whom I
would make a sacrifice; yet you would do so for Mr. Flood, wouldn't
you?"
Now he was rumpling his hair until it stood on end. "Why, yes, I
suppose so! Yes, of course," he said, as if he were wondering where
the talk was leading. Then he put it aside, and turned towards her.
"How little you know yourself!" he said.