pirit, but a whimsical irony tinged her voice.

"The Colonel's lady and Rose O'Grady
Are sisters under their skins,

I suppose we have that kinship, Stuart."

The man's hands closed into a tight grip on the arms of his steamer
chair. In his eyes were regret and sincerity, but his words came with
the firmness of resolve:

"I have, as you say, been dense," he declared, speaking now in even
sentences that had ceased to break disjointedly. "I haven't even done
you the justice of recognizing your more genuine self. You spoke of
drawing me into the web of your troubles--but you didn't say the thing
which you might have mentioned. I was also an adult of supposedly human
intelligence. I should have foreseen the dangers of even so innocent an
affair as was ours. I should have protected you."

"Against myself?" she inquired.

"Against ourselves," he responded quickly. "I should, for instance, have
told you that I was so much in love with one woman, that to me all
others must remain--just others. Now you have done me the honor to say
you love me."

"Please, Stuart!" Marian's face was momentarily drawn in a paroxysm of
pain. "Please don't make me pretty speeches. It isn't necessary--and it
doesn't help."

"I'm not making pretty speeches," he declared. "My love is a hopeless
one, but I can't deny its force without lying. I've helped you spoil
your life and if I can help you mend it--" He broke off there and then
abruptly he said: "Marian, will you marry me?"

She carried her hands to her face and covered her eyes. For a moment she
sat in a stunned attitude and her words came faintly:

"I understand your motive, dear. It's gallant--but it wouldn't do."

"Why?" he demanded and again her head came up with the bearing of pride.

"I've already told you that it's not rehabilitation in the eyes of the
world I seek. For you it would be sacrifice--and for me a failure. If
you asked me because you loved me, and I believed I could make you happy
I think you know what my answer would be. But to marry you without your
loving me--well, that would be--" She paused and then finished: "It
would be sheer Hell."

Stuart leaned over and picked up the pipe. His face was rigid and
self-accusing, and the woman laid her hand on his arm.

"You have ridden with me in the hunting field, Stuart," she irrelevantly
reminded him. "I hope you'll testify that I can take my croppers when
they come. Please don't think I'm whimpering."