"We can never be anything to each other," he answered firmly, "on any
other terms than the renunciation of all that Bivens leaves. I don't
care what you do with it, just so you wash your hands of it. You and I
must begin life just where we left off when the shadow of his money
darkened the world for us both. You must give it up."

"It's hard, dearest," she said with a sob, "for your sake it's hard.
I've dreamed so many wonderful things that would come to pass when I
made you the master of these millions."

"You must choose between his money and my love; you can't have both."

She gazed at him with a desperate yearning.

"I'll do anything you wish, only love me, dearest," she sobbed. "I am
yours, body and soul, all that I am and all that I have. You can do
with it as you please! All I ask is to be loved--loved--loved--and that
you never leave me!"

But even as she spoke, her mind was made up. She would reserve at least
half her fortune secretly. When they were married she could persuade
him to be reasonable.

"All right, then it's settled, but it must be everything with me or
nothing. I won't shake hands with my friend and make love to his wife.
You must cease to be his wife now."

"But how--what do you mean?" she asked, white with sudden fear.

"Leave your husband, your palaces, your millions and join me to-morrow
night on the Limited for New York. Bring only a change of clothes in a
single trunk and a hand-bag. My money must be sufficient. I'll wire for
passage on an outgoing steamer. We'll spend two years in Europe and
return to America when we please. Are you ready?"

"Oh, Jim, dear," she faltered--"you know that would be madness!"

"Certainly it's madness, the madness of a great love! Come, why do you
hesitate?"

The lines of her body relaxed and she began to softly sob. The man
waited in silence for her to speak.

"I've done you harm enough, dearest," she said at last. "I can't do
this."

"And your thought is only of me, Nan?" he asked with piercing
intensity.

"And of myself," she acknowledged brokenly. "I couldn't do such an
insane, vulgar thing."

"I didn't think you could," was the bitter response.

"All I ask," she pleaded, "is to hear you say that you love me
now--just as I am with all my faults. Can't we be patient and yet
honest with one another in the secret world in which our real lives are
lived? In that world I am yours, and you are mine, but a woman's heart
starves at last for the