ry--she'll never find it
out, will she? That wouldn't do, would it, Rosie?"

His words struck her as passing all the bounds of practical common
sense. They were so mad that she felt herself compelled to ask for more
assurance. "Are you--in love--with--with _me_?" If the last syllable had
been louder it would have been a scream.

"Oh, Rosie, forgive me! I shouldn't have told you. It was weak. It was
wrong. I only did it to show you how you could trust me. But I should
have showed you that some other way. You'd already told me how it was
between you and Claude, and so it was treachery to him. But I never
dreamed of trying to come between you. Believe me, I didn't. I swear to
you I only want--"

She broke in, panting. She wouldn't have spoken crudely or abruptly if
there had been any other way. But the chance was there. In another
minute it might be too late. "Yes; but when I said that about Claude--"

She didn't know how to go on. He encouraged her. "Yes, Rosie?"

She wrung her hands. "Oh, don't you _see_? When I said that about
Claude--I didn't--I didn't know--"

He hastened to relieve her distress. "You didn't know I cared for you?"

"No!" The word came out with another long wail.

He looked at her curiously. "But what's that got to do with it?"

Her eyes implored him piteously, while she beat the palm of one hand
against the back of the other. It was terrible that he couldn't see what
she meant--and the moments slipping away!

"It wouldn't have made you love Claude any the less, would it?"

She had to say something. If she didn't he would never understand. "Not
love, perhaps; but--"

The sudden coldness in his voice terrified her again--but differently.
"But what, Rosie?"

She cried out, as if the words rent her. "But Claude has no--_money_."

"And I have. Is that it?"

It was no use to deny it. She nodded dumbly. Besides, she counted on his
possession of common sense, though his use of it was slow.

He raised himself from his attitude of leaning on the desk. It was his
turn to take shelter amid the dark foliage behind him. He couldn't bear
to let the lamplight fall too fully on his face. "Is it this, Rosie," he
asked, with an air of bewilderment, "that you'd marry me because I
have--the money?"

It seemed to Rosie that the question gave her reasonable cause for
exasperation. She was almost sobbing as she said: "Well, I can't marry
Claude _without_ money. He can't marry me." A ray was thrown into he