What would
become of you?"

"To be perfectly truthful," he replied, "I should probably go to the
devil."

"The correct answer," said Clyde gravely. "_I_ am going to the devil.
Oh, I'm strictly conventional. I mean that I'm stagnating
utterly--mentally, morally, and physically. I'm degenerating. My life
is a feminine replica of the one I suggested to you. I'm wearied to
death of it--of killing time aimlessly, of playing at literature, at
charity, at uplifting people who don't want to be uplifted. And there's
nothing different ahead. Must I play at living until I die?"

"But you will marry," he predicted. "You will meet the right man. That
will make a difference."

"Perhaps I have met him."

"Then I wish you great happiness."

"And perhaps he doesn't care for me--in that way."

"The right man would. You're not hard to fall in love with, Clyde."

"Am I not--Casey?" She smiled up at him through the dark, a little
tremor in her voice. She felt his fingers tighten on hers like bands of
steel, crushing them together, and she was conscious of a strange joy
in the pain of it.

"You know you are not!" he said tensely. "I could----" He broke off
abruptly.

"Then why don't you?" she murmured softly.

"Why not?" he exclaimed. "I'd look pretty, wouldn't I, a busted land
speculator, falling in love with you! I've some sense of the fitness of
things. But when you look at me like that----"

He stooped swiftly and kissed her, drawing her to him almost fiercely.
"Oh, girl!" he said, "why did you tempt me? I've forgotten what was due
you as my guest. I've forgotten all that I've been remembering so
carefully for weeks. Now it's over. Some day the right man will tell
you how he loves you."

"I am waiting," she whispered, "for the 'right man' to tell me now!"

"Why," he exclaimed incredulously, "you don't mean----"

"But I do mean," she replied. "Oh, Casey, boy, didn't you know?
Couldn't you guess? Must I do all the love-making myself?"

The answer to this question was in the nature of an unqualified
negative, and extended over half an hour. But Casey retained many of
his scruples. He could not, he insisted, live on her money. If he went
broke, as seemed likely, he must have time to get a fresh stake. Clyde
waived this point, having some faith in Jim Hess. Of this, however, she
said nothing to him.

"We had better go," she said at last. "It is quite dark. Kitty will
wonder where we are."

"Shall you tell her? Better