old on a
minute! I know what you are going to say; that I am sacrificing
myself----"

"You have no right to do so," Celia broke in, in a voice that trembled,
not only with pity, but with indignation. "Oh, don't you see! I am only
a girl, and I know so little of the world; but I know, I am as sure as I
am that--that I am standing here, you have no right, no one has any
right, to make such a sacrifice, and certainly no one would be justified
in accepting it." She pushed the hair from her forehead with a gesture
of impatience. "Oh, you must be mad! You--you look so clever, you take
it all so calmly; you are not excited, bewildered--don't you see
yourself that, in consenting to ruin yourself, to go to--to prison, an
innocent man----? Oh, you have not realized----"

"Have I not?" he broke in, grimly, and with a significant glance at the
revolver. "Oh, yes; I realize it clearly enough; it was because I did
that I decided to--slip out of it. I am sorry that you prevented me. It
was good of you; it was brave of you; you meant well. And you have
succeeded. It is a case of the interposing angel; but you have placed me
in a terrible fix. I don't know what I am going to do."

His hands fell to his side with a gesture of helplessness and despair,
and he turned his head away from the searching gaze of the clear eyes
regarding him so intently.

"Tell the truth," said Celia, in an urgent whisper. "Why should you
screen the guilty? Why should you suffer in his place? Oh, I don't want
to hear the story, it does not concern me. But if you told it to me, it
would make no difference, it would not alter my opinion that you intend
to do a very wicked things--and a very foolish one."

"Foolish! That hits me rather hard," he commented, with a wry smile.

"Well, it _is_ foolish," said Celia, emphatically. "Why, look how young
you are!"

"Why, how young do you think I am?" he interrupted, looking down at her
with a grave smile. "As I said just now, you seem to regard me as if I
were a boy. I think I am as old as you--older. How old are you--you look
like a girl?"

"I am twenty-two--but what has that to do with it? How can you turn
aside, trifle----"

"And I am twenty-five," he said, with an involuntary sigh. "So you see I
am your senior. But they say a woman is always ten years older than a
man of the same age. I suppose that is why you always have us under your
thumbs. No, I'm not trifling. Don't you see that I am fighting for time,