ing it like a man--that your kindness is far more cruel than
scorn. No woman, not the weakest, not the worst, among us, would consent
to be taken as you're offering to take me. A man might bring himself to
accept that kind of pity; but a woman--never! You said just now that you
had come to offer me--what you had to offer; but surely I'm not fallen
so low as to have to take it."

"I said I offered you my name and all that goes with it. I would try to
tell you what it is, only that I find something in our relative
positions transcending words. But since you need words--since apparently
you prefer plainness of speech--I'll tell you something: I saw Bienville
this morning."

She looked up with a new expression, verging on that of curiosity.

"And--?"

"Since then," he continued, "I've become even more deeply conscious than
I was before of the ineradicable nature of what I feel for you."

"Ah?"

"I've come to see that, whatever may have happened, whatever you may be,
I want you as my wife."

"Do you mean that you would overlook wrongdoing on my part,
and--and--care for me, just the same?"

"I mean that life isn't a conceivable thing to me without you; I mean
that no considerations in the world have any force as against my desire
to get you. Whatever your life has been, I subscribe to it. Listen! When
I saw Bienville this morning he withdrew what he said on shipboard--as
nearly as possible, without giving himself the lie, he denied it--and
yet, Diane, and yet I knew his first story was--the truth. No, don't
shrink. Don't cry out. Let me go on. I swear to God that it makes no
difference. I see the whole thing from another point of view. I'll not
only take you as you are, but I want you as you are. I give you my
honor, which is dearer than my life--I give you my child, who is more
precious than my honor. Everything--everything is cheap, so long as I
can win you. Don't shrink from me, Diane. Don't look at me like that--"

"How can I help shrinking from anything so base?"

Her voice rose scarcely above a whisper, but it checked the movement
with which, after the minutes of almost motionless confrontation, he
came toward her with eager arms.

"Base?" he echoed, offended.

"Yes--base. That a man should care for a woman whom he thinks to be bad
is comprehensible; that he should wish to make her his wife is credible;
that he should hope to lift her out of her condition is admirable; but
that he should descend from his