I--why, I can't talk to you now. Go 'way," she cried. "Go
'way, won't you, please--please go 'way, and come some other time."

"No--now's as good a time as any," he replied. "At any rate, I'll tell
you what's on my mind. Mag, now pay attention." He turned his face to
her. "The time has come when Lila Van Dorn and her mother must know who
Kenyon is."

She looked vacantly at him, then started and chattered,
"Wh-wh-wh-wha-what are you s-s-sas-saying--do you mean?"

She got up, closed the door into the house, and came tottering back and
stood by her chair, as the man answered:

"I mean, Maggie, exactly what I said. Kenyon wants to marry Lila. But I
think, and Doctor Nesbit thinks, that before it is settled, Lila and her
mother, and you might as well include Mrs. Nesbit, must know just who
their daughter is marrying--I mean what blood. Now do you get my idea?"

As he spoke, the woman, clutching at her chair back, tried to quiet her
fluttering hands. But she began panting and a sickly pallor overcame her
and she cried feebly: "Oh, you devil--you devil--will you never let me
alone?"

He answered, "Look here, Mag--what's the matter with you? I'm only
trying to play fair with you. I wouldn't tell 'em until you--"

"Ugh!" She shut her eyes. "Grant--wait a minute. I must get my medicine.
I'll be back." She turned to go. "Oh, wait a minute--I'll be back in
five minutes--I promise, honest to God, I'll be right back, Grant." She
was at the door. As she fumbled with the screen, he nodded his assent
and smiled grimly as he said, "All right, Maggie."

When he was alone, he looked about him, at the evidence of the Van Dorn
money in the temple of Love. The outdoor room was furnished with
luxuries he had never seen. He sniffed as though he smelled the money
that was evident everywhere. Beside Margaret's chair, where she had
dropped it when she went to sleep, was a book. It was a beautifully
bound copy of the Memoirs of some titled harlot of the old French court.
He was staring absent-mindedly at the floor where the book lay when she
came to the door.

She came out, sat down, looked steadily at him and began calmly: "Now,
what is it you desire?"

She said "desiah," and Grant grunted as she went on: "I'm shuah no good
can come and only hahm, great suffering--and Heaven knows what wrong, by
this--miserable plan. What good can it do?"

Her changed attitude surprised him. "Well, now, Maggie," he returned,
"since you want to talk it