"And trample you?"

"And trample me," he answered absently.

"That's because you're alone too much," she said with a look of tactful
sympathy.

"Precisely," he replied. "But how am I to prevent that?"

"Marry, of course," she retorted, smiling gaily up at him, letting her
heart just peep from her eyes.

"Thank you! And it sounds so easy! May I ask why you've refused to
take your own medicine--you who say you are so often blue?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I've always suspected the men who asked
me. They were--" She did not finish what she feared might be an
unwise, repelling remark in the circumstances.

"They were after your money," he finished for her.

She nodded. "They were Europeans," she explained. "Europeans want
money when they marry."

"That's another of the curses of riches," he said judicially. "And if
you marry a rich man over here, you may be pretty sure he'll marry you
for your money. I've observed that rich men attach an exaggerated
importance to money, always."

"I'd prefer to marry a poor man," she hastened to answer, her heart
beating faster--certainly his warning against rich suitors must have
been designed to help his own cause with her.

"Yes, that might be better," he agreed. "But you would have to be
careful after you were married or he might fancy you were using your
money to tyrannize over him. I've noticed that the poor husbands of
rich women are supersensitive--often for cause."

"Oh, I'd give it all to him. He could do what he pleased with it. I'd
not care so long as we were happy."

Scarborough liked the spirit of this, liked her look as she said it.

"That's very generous--very like you," he replied warmly. "But I don't
think it would be at all wise. You'd be in a dangerous position. You
might spoil him--great wealth is a great danger, and when it's suddenly
acquired, and so easily-- No, you'd better put your wealth aside and
only use so much of it as will make your income equal to his--if you
can stand living economically."

"I could stand anything with or from any one I cared for." Gladys was
eager for the conversation to turn from the general to the particular.
She went on, forcing her voice to hide her interest: "And you, why
don't you cure your blues?"

"Oh, I shall," he replied carelessly. "But not with your medicine.
Every one to his own prescription."

"And what's yours for yourself?" said Gladys, feeling tired and nervous
from the strai