all say it's a dog's life." She yawned. "Oh, isn't everything
tiresome! If I had had any idea my filial deed in going to find my
father's coat would have resulted in my having to marry Ned, I never
would have gone."

Riatt struggled in silence. He wanted--any man would have wanted--to ask
her whether there wasn't some other way out; but knowing that he himself
was the only other way, he refrained and asked instead: "Is there
anything I can do to help you?"

"There is," she responded promptly. "Rather a disagreeable thing, too.
But it will be all over in an instant, and you can take your afternoon
train and forget all about us. Will you do it?"

He hesitated, and she went on:

"Ah, cautious to the last! It's just a demonstration, a _beau geste_.
It's this: You see, the situation, as I have discovered from a little
talk with Ned, is more ugly than has yet appeared. They are holding one
thing up their sleeve. Ned, it seems, noticed the track of your feet
leaving the house, and it did not stop snowing until the morning. That
was rather careless of you, wasn't it? Nancy can make a good deal of that
one little fact."

"What people you are!"

"Rather horrid, aren't we? Did Laura keep telling you what a wonderful
advantage it would be for you to be one of us? I wish I could have seen
your face."

"Yes, she did say something of the advantages of belonging to a group
like this. Do you know what any man who married you ought to do with
you," he added with sudden vigor. "He ought to take you to the smallest,
ugliest, deadest town he could find and keep you there five years."

"Thank you," she said. "You have achieved the impossible. You have made
Ned seem quite exciting. Hitherto I have taken New York for granted, but
now I shall add it to his positive advantages. But you haven't heard yet
what it is I want you to do."

"What is it?"

"I want you to make me a well authenticated offer of marriage before you
go for good."

"Miss Fenimer, I have the honor to ask you to marry me."

"I regret so much, Mr. Riatt, that a previous attachment prevents my
accepting--but, my dear man, that isn't at all what I mean. Do you
suppose Wickham and Nancy will believe me just because I walk out of
this room and say you asked me to marry you? No, we must have some proof
to offer."

"Something in writing?"

She hesitated.

"No," she said, "one really can't go about with a framed proposal like a
college degree. I want a public demon