"I hope so, for my sake. He is a grand man in the rough, and an excellent tonic for those who have courage to try him."
Sylvia was silent, thinking over all she had just heard and finding much to interest her in it, because, to her imaginative and enthusiastic nature, there was something irresistibly attractive in the strong, solitary, self-reliant man. Mark watched her for a moment, then asked with lazy curiosity—
"How do you like this other friend of mine?"
"He went away when I was such a child that since he came back I've had to begin again; but if I like him at the end of another month as much as I do now, I shall try to make your friend my friend, because I need such an one very much."
Mark laughed at the innocent frankness of his sister's speech but took it as she meant it, and answered soberly—
"Better leave Platonics till you're forty. Though Moor is twelve years older than yourself he is a young man still, and you are grown a very captivating little woman."
Sylvia looked both scornful and indignant.
"You need have no fears. There is such a thing as true and simple friendship between men and women, and if I can find no one of my own sex who can give me the help and happiness I want, why may I not look for it anywhere and accept it in whatever shape it comes?"
"You may, my dear, and I'll lend a hand with all my heart, but you must be willing to take the consequences in whatever shape they come," said Mark, not ill pleased with the prospect his fancy conjured up.
"I will," replied Sylvia loftily, and fate took her at her word.
