No hero of romance could be expected to do more than that, and he wasn't a hero of romance; he didn't pretend to be.

But he _was_ a good fellow--and though Bruce's absurdities irritated him a great deal he had a feeling of delicacy towards him, and a scrupulousness that is not to be found every day.

At other moments Aylmer swore to himself, cursing his impulsiveness, fearing she now would really not ever think of him as he wished, but as a hustling sort of brute.

But no--he didn't care.

He had come at last to close quarters with her.