The head won.
"My influence is evidently useless--that bit of ribbon would make no difference in the future," she said very coldly.
He leaned back against the tree and yawned, as if the subject had no more interest for him.
"Ah well," he said, "I dare say you are right." Meg felt a little taken down.
"Of course, if you really want the ribbon you can have it," she said loftily.

She took it from her pocket and tendered it to him.
But he made no effort to take it.
"Keep it to tie your hair again, little girl," he said; "after all, I don't suppose it would be any use." Meg continued her packing with burning cheeks, and he filled up his pipe and smoked it, watching her idly the while.
"It's an odd thing," he said, more as if making an observation than addressing her, "but the gentlest-looking women are nearly always the hardest." Meg opened her mouth to speak, but found nothing to say, so closed it again and began to count Mrs.Hassal's forks for the fourth time.
"I wonder would you mind if I gave you a little advice, Miss Meg, in return for all you have given me," he said, taking his pipe from his mouth and looking at it as if he were trying to find out the lettering on its nickel plate.
"Certainly not." She laid down the bundle and looked at him with calm, surprised eyes.

"Say whatever you please, I do not mind in the very least." He sat up and played with the handle of a strap while he spoke.
"You have brothers," he said; "some day they will go a little astray--for it is only women like you, Miss Meg, and angels who can keep to the path always.

Don't be too hard on them.

Don't make an effort to show them the difference between your whiteness and their blackness.