you.
Of what are you dreaming, Mr. Dexter?" She walked across the little
room, and stood between the windows, the red light full upon her. A
brightness had risen in her eyes; she looked very beautiful in her
youthful scorn.

Dexter gazed at her, but without moving. "You are mistaken," he said,
gravely. "I do love you."

"Since when?" asked the sweet voice, with a touch of sarcasm. Anne was
now using the powers of concealment which nature gives to all women,
even the youngest, as a defense. Mr. Dexter should know nothing, should
not be vouchsafed even a glimpse, of her inner feelings; she would
simply refuse him, as girls did in books. And she tried to think what
they said.

But the man opposite her was not like a man in a book. "Since six
o'clock this evening," he answered, quietly.

Anne looked at him in wonder.

"Do you wish to hear the whole?" he asked.

"No; it is nothing to me. Since you only began at six, probably you can
stop at twelve," she answered, still with her girlish scorn perceptible
in her voice.

But Dexter paid no attention to her sarcasm. "I will tell you the whole
when you are my wife," he said. "Let it suffice now that at the hour
named I became aware of the worthlessness and faithlessness of women;
and--I speak God's truth, Anne--even at that bitter moment I fell back
upon the thought of _you_ as a safeguard--a safeguard against total
disbelief in the possibility of woman's fidelity. I knew then that I had
revered you with my better self all the while--that, young as you are,
I had believed in you. I believe in you now. Be my wife; and from this
instant I will devote all the love in me--and I have more than you
think--to you alone." He had crossed the room, and was standing beside
her.

Anne felt at once the touch of real feeling. "I am very sorry," she
said, gently, looking up into his face. "I should have said it at first,
but that I did not think you were in earnest until now. I am engaged,
Mr. Dexter; I was engaged before I came here."

"But," said Dexter, "Miss Vanhorn--"

"Yes, I know. Grandaunt does not approve of it, and will not countenance
it. But that, of course, makes no difference."

He looked at her, puzzled by her manner. In truth, poor Anne, while
immovably determined to keep her promise to Rast, even cherishing the
purpose, also, of hastening the marriage if he wished it, was yet so
inefficient an actress that she trembled as she spoke, and returned his
gaze throug