u I don't
love you, and don't want anything to do with you?"

Tetlow, lover though he was--or perhaps because he was lover, of the
hopeless kind that loves generously--could not refrain from protest.
The girl was flinging away a dazzling future. It wasn't fair to her to
let her do it when if she appreciated she would be overwhelmed with joy
and gratitude. "I believe you ought to listen to Norman, Miss Dorothy,"
he said pleadingly. "At any rate, think it over--don't answer right
away. He is making you an honorable proposal--one that's advantageous in
every way----"

Dorothy regarded him with innocent eyes, wide and wondering. "I didn't
think you could talk like that, Mr. Tetlow!" she exclaimed. "You heard
what I said to him--about the way I felt. How could I be his wife? He
tried everything else--and, now, though he's ashamed of it, he's trying
to get me by marriage. Oh, I understand. I wish I didn't. I'd not feel
so low." She looked at Norman. "Can't you realize _ever_ that I don't want
any of the grand things you're so crazy about--that I want something
very different--something you could never give me--or get for me?"

"Isn't there anything I can do, Dorothy, to make you forget and
forgive?" he cried, like a boy, an infatuated boy. "For God's sake,
Tetlow, help me! Tell her I'm not so rotten as she thinks. I'll be
anything you like, my darling--_anything_--if only you'll take me. For I
must have you. You're the only thing in the world I care for--and,
without you, I've no interest in life--none--none!"

He was so impassioned that passersby began to observe them curiously.
Tetlow became uneasy. But Norman and Dorothy were unconscious of what
was going on around them. The energy of his passion compelled her,
though the passion itself was unwelcome. "I'm sorry," she said gently.
"Though you would have hurt me, if you could, I don't want to hurt
you. . . . I'm sorry. I can't love you. . . . I'm sorry. Come on, Mr.
Tetlow."

Norman stood aside. She and Tetlow went on out of the building. He
remained in the same place, oblivious of the crowd streaming by, each
man or woman with a glance at his vacant stare.

XIV

Than Fred Norman no man ever had better reason to feel securely
entrenched upon the heights of success. It was no silly vaunt of
optimism for him to tell Lockyer that only loss of life or loss of mind
could dislodge him. And a few days after Dorothy had extinguished the
last spark of hope he got re