ceive you, it means severing my
relations with them until they come to their senses--"

"_That_ is _exactly_ what I will not do to your life, Louis! _Can't_ you
understand? Is your mother less dear to you than was mine to me? I will
_not_ break your heart! I will not humiliate either you or her; I will
not ask her to endure--or any of your family--or one man or woman in
that world where you belong.... I am too proud--and too merciful to
you!"

"I am my own master!" he broke out, angrily--

"I am my own mistress--and incidentally yours," she added in a low
voice.

"Valerie!"

"Am I not?" she asked, quietly.

"How can you say such a thing, child!"

"Because it is true--or will be. Won't it?" She lifted her clear eyes to
his, unshrinking--deep brown wells of truth untroubled by the shallows
of sham and pretence.

His face burned a deep red; she confronted him, slender, calm eyed,
composed: "I am not the kind of woman who loves twice. I love you so
dearly that I will not marry you. That is settled. I love you so deeply
that I can be happy with you unmarried. And if this is true, is it not
better for me to tell you? I ask nothing except love; I give all I
have--myself."

She dropped her arms, palms outward, gazing serenely at him; then
blushed vividly as he caught her to him in a close embrace, her
delicate, full lips crushed to his.

"Dearest--dearest," he whispered, "you will change your ideas when you
understand me better--"

"I can love you no more than I do. Could I love you more if I were your
wife?"

"Yes, you wilful, silly child!"

She laughed, her lips still touching his. "I don't believe it, Louis. I
_know_ I couldn't. Besides, there is no use thinking about it."

"Valerie, your logic and your ethics are terribly twisted--"

"Perhaps. All I know is that I love you. I'd rather talk of that--"

"Than talk of marrying me!"

"Yes, dear."

"But you'd make me so happy, so proud--"

"You darling! to say so. Think so always, Louis, because I promise to
make you happy, anyway--"

He had encircled her waist with one arm, and they were slowly pacing the
floor before the hearth, she with her charming young head bent, eyes
downcast, measuring her steps to his.

She said, thoughtfully: "I have my own ideas concerning life. One of
them is to go through it without giving pain to others. To me, the only
real wickedness is the wilful infliction of unhappiness. That covers all
guilt.... Other matters see