ow," she said gently.

"Yes." He sat up more erect in his seat. "You saw Mr. Rivers. He's the
best ever."

"I've heard about how good he is and how gruff. That's the kind I like;
no nonsense about them. I hate sissy men, don't you?"

Willy assented, but without animation; he was diffidently searching his
inner consciousness as to whether he himself had not been accused of
being a sissy. "Sometimes a fellow seems a sissy when he isn't," he
offered.

"Oh, _often_," she agreed heartily; "but the man they want Moira to
marry is a genuine muff, a horrid, languid-affected New Yorker who talks
like a guardsman and makes fun of his own country. Moira can't endure
him; but he offers to settle half a million on her, and we let Effie
marry a captain of the line who had only a thousand a year--"

"That was _you_," interrupted Willy fervently. "You did that. Oswald
told me--"

"No, it was dad; he couldn't bear to have Effie so unhappy when I told
him how she might go into a decline, she felt so wretched. But you see,
having let Effie do that and helping her out, we couldn't afford any
more detrimentals, although Jimmy's got his colonelcy and the cross and
they are ever so happy. But we can't afford another love match. The
bishop is dead and Ellen hasn't very much; and Lord Fairley has a big
family; he was a widower with five when Ellen married him, and they have
two; and _we_ are so deadly poor. It is really necessary, but it's
awful. And I am sure she cares a lot for Reggy Sackville, a kind of
cousin of ours who is a barrister, and she is sure he will be a judge,
he is so clever; but he couldn't support a wife for years and years.
Don't you think it's really and truly awful to have to marry _anybody_?"

"Awful--intolerable," agreed Willy. "I simply will not."

"And _your_ father wants you--" She looked so sympathetic that Willy
broke right in:

"Yes. I never seem able to do anything my father wants. I can't manage
men and make friends and run the business as my brothers did. Now he
wants me to marry a girl he has picked out for me; and I've got to
disappoint him again. I wrote him I'd try to meet his wishes every other
way--I'd accept dinner invitations; I'd learn the steel business; I
could ride and run an automobile, and I had been up in an airship, and
I'd try to win a golf cup; and I'm taking bridge lessons, but--the hand
of Douglas was his own, you know."

"I think that's splendid!" cried the girl heartily. "_I_ do