ust realize that she had betrayed
herself.

Any further talk between them would be profitless, and so Lawler did not
answer her question. He stood, looking at the north window, which was a
little to one side of her; while she sat staring past him, her lips
straight and hard.

At last she looked up. "What an odd courtship!"

His gaze dropped, met hers, and he smiled.

"Yes--odd," he returned, dryly.

"But I suppose," she said, in a tone equally dry; "that you will make up
for it, after we are married. You will learn to like me."

"Yes; after we are married," he smiled, ironically.

"That will be as soon as we can get to town, I presume," she went on,
watching him with brazen directness. "You see," she explained; "I have
been here with you for about two weeks, you know, and my friends will
ask embarrassing questions. You are so _honorable_ that you cannot
refuse to protect my reputation."

"I am sorry, of course, Miss Wharton. But you should have considered
your reputation before you decided to come here."

"You mean that you won't marry me?" she demanded. She got up and walked
toward him, halting within a pace of him and standing stiffly before
him.

"You have perception, after all, it seems," he said, gravely. "But you
don't understand human nature. No man--or woman--in this section will
see anything wrong in your staying in this cabin with me during the
storm. They will accept it as being the most natural thing in the world.
It was a simple act of humanness for me to take you in, and it entails
no offer of marriage. Perhaps it has been done, and will be done again,
where there is an inclination to marry. It has been done in books, and
in certain sections of the world where narrow-minded people are the
manufacturers of public sentiment. The mere fact that I happened to save
your life does not obligate me to marry you, Miss Wharton. And I do not
feel like playing the martyr."

For an instant it seemed that Della would become hysterical. But when
she looked into Lawler's eyes and realized that mere acting would not
deceive him, she sneered.

"I might have known _you_ wouldn't be man enough to protect me!"

Lawler smiled, but did not answer. And after an instant, during which
Della surveyed him with scorn unspeakable, she strode stiffly to a chair
in a far corner of the room and dropped into it.

Lawler had been little affected. He pitied her because of her perverted
moral sense, which sought an honorable