ht to suggest, not enough
to glare, and a subtile fragrance of heliotrope. He might marry women
superior to Marcia Grandon who would not bring him her family prestige.
They may dislike him, but they cannot quite crowd him out of
everything.

Marcia receives him with much trepidation. Acute as he is, he does not
understand her, for the simple reason that he does not give her credit
for the shrewdness engendered by much experience. If she cannot have
the marriage she will have the flirtation, and she suspects the latter.

He does soon set her mind at rest, and she is surprised at a positive
offer of marriage. He makes it because he knows she will be the more
ready to devise ways of meeting him.

"It is abrupt, I know," he begins, in a peculiarly apologetical tone,
"but I wanted you to know my intentions. Circumstances might be rather
against us if we undertook the orthodox courtship," and he smiles. "I
am aware that I have not the graces of youth and comeliness, and for
various reasons your family might oppose. But I am not a poor man, and
I think--if a woman loved me--I want her to love me," he says, with
sudden vehemence that looks like passion. "I want her to adore me, I
want to know what it is to be loved in spite of my drawbacks!"

He has touched the right chord in Marcia's nature. She is always ready
to adore when opportunity offers. And though she has loved numberless
times, she is ready to begin over again, and yields to the masterful
force that experiments with her. The touch of her hand is soft and
tremulous, and her kisses are delicate, sweet. He gives himself up to
an idiocy he does not believe in, and really enjoys the blissfulness,
as an Eastern despot might enjoy the admiration of a new slave.

Marcia is supremely happy encircled by these strong arms. Before her
closed eyes floats in magic letters her new name. She will not be the
old maid of the family after all. If she did not know the world so
well, she would be moved to show her gratitude, but it is much wiser to
show her love.

"I shall want to see you," he says, "and we cannot always count on
occasions like these. I must leave the opportunities largely to you. A
note directed to my box will escape prying eyes. We can have walks
together; why, we could even have drives if you were good enough to
invite me."

"I should be delighted!" cries Marcia, exultantly.

"Only, we must not choose public thoroughfares." And his smile is
fascinating to Mar