him.

"Well, then, I do," he said firmly. "Will you marry me, Beatrice?"

She threw her head back and laughed, laughed long and softly, and
Tavernake, simple and unversed in the ways of women, believed that she
was indeed amused.

"Neither you nor any one else, dear Leonard!" she exclaimed.

"But I want you to," he persisted. "I think that you will."

There was coquetry now in the tantalizing look she flashed him.

"Am I, too, then, one of these things to be attained in your life?" she
asked. "Dear Leonard, you mustn't say it like that. I don't like the
look of your jaw. It frightens me."

"There is nothing to be afraid of in marrying me," he answered. "I
should make you a very good husband. Some day you would be rich, very
rich indeed. I am quite sure that I shall succeed, if not at once,
very soon. There is plenty of money to be made in the world if one
perseveres."

She had the air of trying to take him seriously.

"You sound quite convincing," she admitted, "but I do wish that you
would put all these thoughts out of your mind, Leonard. It doesn't sound
like you in the least. Remember what you told me that first night; you
assured me that women had not the slightest part in your life."

"I have changed," he confessed. "I did not expect anything of the sort
to happen, but it has. It would be foolish of me to deny it. I have been
all my life learning, Beatrice," he continued, with a sudden curious
softness in his tone, "and yet, somehow or other, it seems to me that I
never knew anything at all until lately. There was no one to direct me,
no one to show me just what is worth while in life. You have taught me a
great deal, you have taught me how little I know. And there are things,"
he went on, solemnly, "of which I am afraid, things which I do not begin
even to understand. Can't you see how it is with me? I am really very
ignorant. I want some one who understands; I want you, Beatrice, very
badly."

She patted the back of his hand caressingly.

"You mustn't talk like that, Leonard," she said. "I shouldn't make you a
good wife. I am not going to marry any one."

"And why?" he asked.

She shook her head.

"That is my secret," she told him, looking into the fire.

"You mean to say that, you will never marry?" he persisted.

"Oh, I suppose I shall change, like other women," she answered. "Just at
present, I feel like that."

"Is it because your sister's marriage--"

She caught hold of both his hands