ge, choking way. She was looking at him now with
wide, comprehending eyes.

"I can't bear to see you married to that old man, Anne," he went on. "It
is too awful for words. You are one of the most perfect of God's
creations. You shall not be sacrificed on this damned altar of--I beg your
pardon, I did not mean to begin by accusing any one of deliberately
forcing you into--into--" He broke off and pulled fiercely at his little
moustache.

"I see now," she said presently. "You are willing to sacrifice yourself in
order that I may be spared. Is that it?"

"It isn't precisely a sacrifice. At least, it isn't quite the same sort of
sacrifice that goes with your case as it now stands. In this instance, one
of us at least is moved by a feeling of love;--in the other, there is no
love at all. If you will take me, Anne, you will get a man who adores you
for yourself. Isn't there something in that? I can give you everything
that old man Thorpe can give, with love thrown in. I understand the
situation. You are not marrying that old man because you love him. There's
something back of it all that you can't tell me, and I shall not ask you
to do so. But listen, dear; I'm decent, I'm honest, I'm young and I'm
rich. I can give you everything that money will buy. Good Lord, I wish I
could remember just what I've got to offer you in the way of--But, never
mind now. If you'd like it, I'll have my secretary make out a complete
list of--"

"So you think I am marrying Mr. Thorpe for his money,--is that it, Simmy
dear?" she asked.

"I know it," said he promptly. "That is, you are marrying him because some
one else--ahem! You can't expect me to believe that you love the old
codger."

"No, I can't expect that of any one. Thank you, Simmy. I think I
understand. You really want to--to save me. Isn't that so?"

"I do, Anne, God knows I do," he said fervently. "It's the most beastly,
diabolical--"

"You have been fair with me, Simmy," she broke in seriously, "so I'll be
fair with you. I am marrying Mr. Thorpe for his money. I ought to be
ashamed to confess it openly in this way, but I'm not. Every one knows
just why I am going into this thing, and every one is putting the blame
upon my mother. She is not wholly to blame. I am not being driven into it.
It's in the blood of us. We are that kind. We are a bad lot, Simmy, we
women of the breed. It goes a long way back, and we're all alike. Don't
ask me to say anything more, dear old boy. I'm j