f-respect. This would be the crucial test. If she loved him, it must
be for himself alone, not for his title. If he won her, he would proudly
carry off the prize of two New York seasons--he, penniless, unknown, to
all appearances an ordinary workman!

He moved forward so he could see her face.

"We've been good friends," he went on. "I can never forget you. You made
a new man of me. You came into my life at a time when everything seemed
at an end. Your sweet, gentle influence filled me with renewed hope,
renewed energy, a determination to begin life anew. Suddenly, I
discovered that you were indispensable to my happiness. In my folly I
dreamed that you might become my wife. Perhaps if things had turned out
otherwise, if the _Saucy Polly_ had not come---- Well, what's the use of
talking of that now? I was insane. I lifted my eyes to the stars. I
deserved to be punished for my temerity."

Grace did not stir. Fascinated, she stood listening to his words. There
was sadness in his voice, and the music of its rich tones still
exercised on her its old-time magnetism. What potent attraction was
there about this man that rendered her powerless to resist his pleading?
Was she afraid to confess to herself that she loved him and that she was
ready to do anything, break off with the Prince, incur the ridicule of
her friends, offend her father--for his sake?

Armitage continued:

"But that is all over now. We part good friends. You go your way--I will
go mine. You will find happiness with the Prince----"

Grace turned quickly. Her eyes red and flashing, her bosom heaving with
pent-up emotion, she cried:

"The Prince! The Prince! I detest the Prince! I wouldn't marry him if
there wasn't another man left in the world."

Armitage drew back, surprised.

"Aren't you engaged to him?" he demanded.

"No--no! That is only newspaper talk. He has been annoying me with his
attentions, and of course all my people were flattered. But there's
nothing more serious."

"Thank God!" he muttered under his breath.

"What did you say?" she asked.

"I'm glad--for your sake," was his evasive answer.

He approached closer and held out his hand.

"Good-by," he said in a low tone.

Again she averted her head, and as she did so she stumbled against the
table. Afraid she was going to fall, he caught her by the hand. Their
hands remained clasped. She made no attempt to withdraw. He grew bolder
and went still nearer. A strange sensation of sudd