“I'll tell you what it is!” suddenly exclaimed Ransford, after remaining silent for a moment under this flow of philosophy. “I'm not going to discuss theories and ideas. I know one young woman, at any rate, who is certain of herself. Miss Bewery does not feel any inclination to you--now, nor at any time to be! She's told you so three times. And--you should take her answer and behave yourself accordingly!” Bryce favoured his senior with a searching look. “How does Miss Bewery know that she mayn't be inclined to--in the future?” he asked. “She may come to regard me with favour.” “No, she won't!” declared Ransford. “Better hear the truth, and be done with it. She doesn't like you--and she doesn't want to, either. Why can't you take your answer like a man?” “What's your conception of a man?” asked Bryce. “That!--and a good one,” exclaimed Ransford. “May satisfy you--but not me,” said Bryce. “Mine's different. My conception of a man is of a being who's got some perseverance. You can get anything in this world--anything!--by pegging away for it.” “You're not going to get my ward,” suddenly said Ransford. “That's flat! She doesn't want you--and she's now said so three times. And--I support her.” “What have you against me?” asked Bryce calmly. “If, as you say, you support her in her resolution not to listen to my proposals, you must have something against me. What is it?” “That's a question you've no right to put,” replied Ransford, “for it's utterly unnecessary. So I'm not going to answer it. I've nothing against you as regards your work--nothing! I'm willing to give you an excellent testimonial.” “Oh!” remarked Bryce quietly. “That means--you wish me to go away?” “I certainly think it would be best,” said Ransford. “In that case,” continued Bryce, more coolly than ever, “I shall certainly want to know what you have against me--or what Miss Bewery has against me. Why am I objected to as a suitor? You, at any rate, know who I am--you know that my father is of our own profession, and a man of reputation and standing, and that I myself came to you on high recommendation. Looked at from my standpoint, I'm a thoroughly eligible young man. And there's a point you forget--there's no mystery about me!” Ransford turned sharply in his chair as he noticed the emphasis which Bryce put on his last word. “What do you mean?” he demanded. “What I've just said,” replied Bryce. “There's no mystery attaching to me. Any question about me can be answered. Now, you can't say that as regards your ward. That's a fact, Dr. Ransford.” Ransford, in years gone by, had practised himself in the art of restraining his temper--naturally a somewhat quick one. And he made a strong effort in that direction now, recognizing that there was something behind his assistant's last remark, and that Bryce meant him to know it was there. “I'll repeat what I've just said,” he answered. “What do you mean by that?”