"No; I only think of you," he answered, with a little laugh, which
indeed was his method of making love.
For fear of Mrs. Vansittart laughing at him, he laughed at love--a very
common form of cowardice. She smiled and said nothing, thus tacitly
allowing him, as she had allowed him before, to assume that she was not
displeased. She knew that in love he was the incarnation of caution,
and would only venture so far as she encouraged him to come. She had
him, in a word, thoroughly in hand.
They rode on, talking of other things; and Roden, having sped his
shaft, seemed relieved in mind, and had plenty to say--about himself. A
man's interests are himself, and malgamite naturally formed a large
part of Roden's conversation. Mrs. Vansittart encouraged him with a
singular persistency to talk of this interesting product.
"It is wonderful," she said--"quite wonderful."
"Well, hardly that," he answered slowly, as if there were something
more to be said, which he did not say.
"And I do not give so much credit to Herr von Holzen as you suppose,"
added Mrs. Vansittart, carelessly. "Some day you will have to fulfil
your promise of taking me over the works."
Roden did not answer. He was perhaps wondering when he had made the
promise to which his companion referred.
"Shall we go home that way?" asked Mrs. Vansittart, whose experience of
the world had taught her that deliberate and steady daring in social
matters usually, succeeds.
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