th a savage gleam.

She was prompt and sure with his punishment. She said, simply and
sweetly: "I'd do anything to keep _his_ good opinion of me."

Norman felt and looked cowed. "You don't know how it makes me suffer to
see you fond of another man," he cried.

She seemed not in the least interested, went to the mirror of the bureau
and began to inspect her hair with a view to doing it up. "You can go in
five minutes," said she. "By that time he'll be well out of the way.
Anyhow, if he saw you leaving the house he'd not know but what you had
been to see some one else. He knows you by reputation but not by sight."

Norman went to her, took her by the shoulders gently but strongly. "Look
at me," he said.

She looked at him with an expression, or perhaps absence of expression,
that was simple listening.

"If you meant awhile ago some such thing as I hinted--I will have
nothing to do with it. You must marry me--or it's nothing at all."

Her gaze did not wander, but before his wondering eyes she seemed to
fade, fade toward colorlessness insignificance. The light died from
her eyes, the flush of health from her white skin, the freshness from
her lips, the sparkle and vitality from her hair. A slow, gradual
transformation, which he watched with a frightened tightening at the
heart.

She said slowly: "You--want--me--to--_marry_--you?"

"I've always wanted it, though I didn't realize," replied he. "How else
could I be sure of you? Besides--" He flushed, added hurriedly, almost
in an undertone--"I owe it to you."

She seated herself deliberately.

After he had waited in vain for her to speak, he went on: "If you
married me, I know you'd play square. I could trust you absolutely. I
don't know--can't find out much about you--but at least I know that."

"But I don't love you," said she.

"You needn't remind me of it," rejoined he curtly.

"I don't think so--so poorly of you as I used to," she went on. "I
understand a lot of things better than I did. But I don't love you, and
I feel that I never could."

"I'll risk that," said Norman. Through his clinched teeth, "I've got to
risk it."

"I'd be marrying you because I don't feel able to--to make my own way."

"That's the reason most girls have for marrying," said he. "Love comes
afterward--if it comes. And it's the more likely to come for the girl
not having faked the man and herself beforehand."

She glanced at the clock. He frowned. She started up. "You _must_ go