hands, he kissed it
again and again. He even sank on one knee beside her, holding her close
to him. With the hand that remained free she stroked his crisp, wavy,
iron-gray hair as a sign of pardon.

"You're quite wrong about me," he persisted.

"Even if you're right about other Englishmen--which I don't
admit--you're wrong about me, by Jove! If I had to give up everything I
had in the world I should have all the compensation a man could desire
if I got you."

She leaned over him, pressing his head against her breast, as she
whispered:

"You couldn't get me that way. You must understand--I must make it as
plain to you as I can--that I couldn't go to you except as an equal. I
couldn't go to any man--"

He sprang to his feet. "But you _came_ to me as an equal," he cried, in
tones of exasperation. "That's all over and done with. It's too late to
reconsider the step we've taken--too late for me--much too late!--and
equally too late for you."

"I can't admit that, Rupert. I've still the right to draw back."

"The legal right--yes; whether or not you've the moral right would
depend on your sense of honor."

"Of honor?"

"Certainly. There's an honor for you as well as for me. When I'm so true
to you it wouldn't be the square thing to play me false."

She rose without haste. "Do you call that a fair way of putting it--to
say that I play you false because I refuse to involve you in our family
disasters? I don't think any one could blame me for that."

"What they could blame you for is this--for backing out of what is
practically a marriage, and for deserting me in a way that will make it
seem as if I had deserted you. Quite apart from the fact that life won't
be worth anything to me without you, it will mean ruin as a man of honor
if I go home alone. Every one will say--_every one_--that I funked the
thing because your father--"

She hastened to speak. "That's a very urgent reason. I admit its
force--"

She paused because there was a sound of voices overhead. Footsteps came
along the upper hall and began to descend the stairs. Presently Davenant
could be heard saying:

"Then I shall tell Harrington that they may as well foreclose at one
time as another."

"Just as well." Guion's reply came from the direction of his bedroom
door. "I see nothing to be gained by waiting. The sooner it's over the
sooner to sleep, what?"

"They're talking about the mortgage on the property," she explained, as
Davenant continued