himself.

"Now you leave it to me, mumphy dear. I know exactly what I'm about. I
can't explain. But I'll tell you this much more--it'll make your mind
quite easy--that it's all on my account that Rosie's to have the money."
He gave his brother another look. "If she didn't marry me she wouldn't
get it. At least," he added, more doubtfully, "I don't think she would.
See?"

Mrs. Masterman confessed that she didn't see--quite; but her tone made
it clear that she was influenced by Claude's assurances, while Thor felt
it prudent to go on his way up the second stairway.

CHAPTER XVII

There were both amazement and terror in Rosie's face when, at dusk next
day, Claude strolled down the flowery path of the hothouse. Since Thor
had turned from her, on almost the same spot, forty-eight hours
previously, no hint from either of the brothers had come her way.
Through the intervening time she had lived in an anguish of wonder. What
was happening? What was to happen still? Would anything happen at all?
Had Claude discovered the astounding fact that the elder brother was in
love with her? If he had, what would he do? Would he go wild with
jealousy? Or would he never have anything to do with her again? Either
case was possible, and the latter more than possible if he had received
a hint of the degree in which she had betrayed herself to Thor.

As to that, she didn't know whether she was glad or sorry. She knew how
crude had been her self-revelation, and how shocking; but the memory of
it gave her a measure of relief. It was like a general confession, like
the open declaration of what had been too long kept buried in the heart.
It had been a shameful thing to own that, loving one man, she would have
married another man for money; but a worse shame lay in being driven to
that pass. For this she felt herself but partly responsible, if
responsible at all. What did she, Rosie Fay, care for money in itself?
Put succinctly, her first need was of bread, of bread for herself and
for those who were virtually dependent on her. After bread she wanted
love and pleasure and action and admiration and whatever else made up
life--but only after it. She was craving for them, she was stifling for
lack of them, but they were all secondary. The very best of them was
secondary. Only one thing stood first--and that was bread.

Undoubtedly her frankness had revolted Thor Masterman. But what did he
know of an existence which left the barest possib