ss of
hopelessness.

"Nothing ever will come of it if you go on squandering your chances as
you have to-day. What is the matter with you? Are you afraid of the
elderly gentleman with the calculating eye?"

"Not exactly afraid of him; but he's a millionnaire, and Miss Vennor has
a fortune in her own right. And I----"

"Don't finish it. I understand your objection; you are poor and
proud--and that's as it should be; but tell me--you are in love with
Miss Vennor, aren't you? When did it begin?"

"A year ago."

"You didn't permit yourself to fall in love with her until you knew all
about her circumstances and prospects, of course?"

"You know better than that. It was--it was what you'd call love at first
sight," he confessed, rather shame-facedly; and then he told her how it
began.

"Very good," said Mrs. Burton, approvingly. "Then you did actually
manage to fall in love with Gertrude herself, and not with her money.
But now, because you've found out she has money, you are going to spoil
your chance of happiness, and possibly hers. Is that it?"

Brockway tried to explain. "It's awfully good of you to try to put it in
that light, but no one would ever believe that I wasn't mercenary--that
I wasn't a shameless cad of a fortune-hunter. I couldn't stand that, you
know."

"No, of course not; not even for her sake. Besides, she doubtless looks
upon you as a fortune-hunter, and----"

"What? Indeed she doesn't anything of the kind."

"Well, then, if you are sure she doesn't misjudge you, what do you care
for the opinion of the world at large?"

"Much; when you show me a man who doesn't care for public opinion, I'll
show you one who ought to be in jail."

"Fudge! Please don't try to hide behind platitudes. But about Gertrude,
and your little affair, which is no affair; what are you going to do
about it?"

"Nothing; there is nothing at all to be done," Brockway replied with
gloomy emphasis.

"I suppose nothing would ever induce you to forgive her for being rich?"

"I can never quite forgive myself for being poor, since it's going to
cost me so much."

"You are too equivocal for any use. Answer my question," snapped the
small inquisitor.

"How can I?" Brockway inquired, with masculine density. "Forgiveness
implies an injury, and----"

"Oh, _oh_--how stupid you can be when you try! You know perfectly well
what I mean."

"I'm not sure that I do," said Brockway, whose wit was easily confounded
by a sharp tong