ped at once to Roger. What did he mean to
her? What could he ever mean? He had said himself that he could
expect nothing. Perhaps he had meant that she must expect nothing.

"Mary, is it--Roger Poole?"

Her eyes came up to meet his; they were like stars. "Porter, I
don't--know."

He took the blow in silence. The shadows were on them now. In all the
beauty of the May twilight, the little bronze boy grinned at love and
at life.

"Has he asked you, Mary?"

"No. I'm not sure that he wants to marry me--I'm not sure that I want
to marry him--I only know that he is different." It was like Mary to
put it thus, frankly.

"No man could know you without wanting to marry you. But what has he
to offer you--oh, it is preposterous."

She faced him, flaming. "It isn't preposterous, Porter. What has any
man to offer any woman except his love? Oh, I know you men--you think
because you have money--but if--if--both of you loved me--you'd stand
before me on your merits as men--there would be nothing else in it for
me but that."

"I know. And I'm willing to stand on my merits." The temper which
belonged to Porter's red head was asserting itself. "I'm willing to
stand on my merits. I offer you a past which is clean--a future of
devotion. It's worth something, Mary--in the years to come when you
know more of men, you'll understand that it is worth something."

"I know," she said, her hand on his, "it is worth a great deal. But I
don't want to marry anybody." It was the old cry reiterated. "I want
to live the life I have planned for a little while--then if Love claims
me, it must be _love_--not just a comfortable getting a home for myself
along the lines of least resistance. I want to work and earn, and know
that I can do it. If I were to marry you, it would be just because I
couldn't see any other way out of my difficulties, and you wouldn't
want me that way, Porter."

He did want her. But he recognized the futility of wanting her. For a
little while, at least, he must let her have her way. Indeed, she
would have it, whether he let her or not. But Roger Poole should not
have her. He should not. All that was primitive in Porter rose to
combat the claims which she made for his rival.

"I knew there'd be trouble when you let the Tower Rooms," he said
heavily at last; "a man like that always appeals to a girl's sense of
romance."

The Tower Rooms! Mary saw Roger as he had stood in them for the first
t