"You're smart. I believe my people entertained some idea of that nature; George is considered safe. Still, to prevent any misapprehension, I'd better point out that my chief failings are a fondness for looking at the amusing side of things and a slackness in availing myself of my opportunities. As an instance of the latter defect, I'm boring you by talking about Lansing."
Flora regarded him with a quiet smile.
"It struck me that you were saying something about yourself."
"I suppose that's true," Edgar admitted. "It clears the ground."
"For what?"
"For an extension of our acquaintance, among other things."
"Do you want it extended?"
They had stopped at the edge of a hollow filled with tall, harsh grass, and Edgar studied her while he considered his answer. There was nothing that suggested coquetry in the faint amusement she displayed; this was a girl with some depth of character, though he realized that she was pretty. She carried herself well; she was finely and strongly made; her gray eyes were searching; and she had a rather commanding manner. Her hair was a warm brown, clustering low on a smooth forehead; nose and lips and chin were firmly molded.
"Yes," he answered candidly; "I'm feeling the strangeness of the country, and I've an idea that both George and I may need friends in it. It strikes me that you and your father would prove useful ones."
"Well," she said, "he's sometimes called hard, and he's a little prejudiced on certain points, but he can be very staunch to those he takes a liking to."