affected
herself and Laurence. Life without Laurence! The bare thought of it
tested her heart and showed her how inalienably it belonged to him.
But under all his lovingness and his boyishness, Laurence had a
sternness, a ruggedness as adamantine as one of Cromwell's Iron-sides.
With him to know would be to act. Well--he mustn't know. It terrified
her to think of just what might happen, if Laurence knew.

Under the circumstances there seemed but one course open to her--to
give up Laurence, and that without explanations. For his own sake she
had to keep silent--just as Hunter had known she would. What Laurence
must think of her, even the loss of his affection and respect, would
be part of the price paid for having been a fool.

In the most unobtrusive manner they kept in touch with her. Hunter had
so adroitly wirepulled, and so deftly softened and toned down
Inglesby's crudities, that Mrs. Eustis had become the latter's open
champion. Condescending and patronizing, she liked the importance of
lending a very rich man her social countenance. She insisted that he
was misunderstood. Men of great fortunes are always misunderstood.
Nobody considers it a virtue to be charitable to the rich--they save
all their charity for the poor, who as often as not are undeserving,
and are generally insanitary as well. Mrs. Eustis thanked her heavenly
Father she was a woman of larger vision, and never thought ill of a
man just because he happened to be a millionaire. Millionaires have
got souls, she hoped? And hearts? Mrs. Eustis said she knew Mr.
Inglesby's noble heart, my dear, whether others did or not.

Compelled to apparently jilt Laurence, Mary Virginia sank deeper and
deeper into the slough of despond. A terror of Inglesby's power, as of
something supernatural, was growing upon her, a terror almost childish
in its intensity. He had begun to occupy the niche vacated by the
Boogerman her Dah had threatened her with in her nursery. She could
barely conceal this terror, save that an instinct warned her that to
let him know she feared him would be fatal. And she felt for him a
physical repulsion strong enough to be nauseating.

The fact that she disdained and perhaps even disliked him and made no
effort to conceal her feelings, did not in the least ruffle his bland
complacency nor affront his pride. He knew that not even an Inglesby
could hope to find a Mary Virginia more than once in a lifetime, and
the haughtier she was the more she