shing.

"Her character's as good as any one else's--granted that. But, Fred,
that's not all. She's not of your world, her mother's not--her friends
are not. If you marry her, Fred, as sure as there's a sun in heaven,
you're ended, done for; you're dropped out of the world and you'll never
get back!"

"Well, I'm going to do it," said DeLancy, stubbornly.

"You're going to do it and deliberately throw over every friend and
every attachment you've got in life?"

"I don't admit that."

"What are you going to live on?" said Granning.

"I've got the money I made and what I make."

"What you make now," said Marsh, seizing the opening, "what you make
because you know people and bring down customers! You yourself said it.
But when you drop out of society you'll drop out of business. You know
it."

"I may fool you yet," said Fred angrily.

"You think you can play the Wall Street game and beat it," said Bojo,
divining his thought. "Fred, if you marry, whatever else you do--quit
gambling." Knowing more than the others, he had from the first known the
hopelessness of argument. Still he persisted blindly. "Fred, can't you
wait and think it over--let us talk it over with you?"

"I can't, Bojo, I can't. I've given my word!"

"Good God!" said Marsh, raising his hands to heaven in fury.

"Fred, can't you see what Roscy says is true?" said Granning, quieter
than the rest.

"Even so, I'm going to do it," said Fred, in a low voice.

"But why?"

"Because I'm crazy, mad in love," said Fred, jumping up and pacing
around. "Infatuated?--Yes!--Mad?--Yes! But there it is. I can't do
without her. I've been like a wild man all these months. Whether it
ruins me or not, I can't help it-- I've got to have her, and that's all
there is to it!"

"Then I guess that's all there is to it," repeated Granning solemnly.

Marsh swore a fearful oath and went out.

"I want to talk to him a moment," said Bojo, turning to Granning with a
nod. Granning went into the bedroom, while Bojo drew nearer to DeLancy.
"Fred, let's talk this over quietly."

"Oh, I know what you're going to fling at me," said Fred miserably.
"Gladys and all that. I know I'm a beast, I've no excuse. But, Bojo, I'm
half wild! I don't know what I'm doing--honest I don't!"

"Is it as bad as all that, old fellow?" said Bojo, shaking his head.

"It's awful--awful." He sat down, burying his head in his hands.

"Fred, answer me--do you yourself _want_ to do this?"

"How do