because your income happened to be
short for a time. And--and I thought you'd rather have it that way than
take it from me--at the first," he ended lamely.

She jumped up and confronted him, white with rage.

"How dared you do that? How dared you? How do you suppose I feel, being
in this position--to you?"

"I hope you don't feel at all. And besides--But how did you find out
about this?"

"Cousin Mary has been here," the girl burst out, losing all idea of
keeping anything back. "She had all sorts of things to say: how badly
she'd been treated--how she was shipped off East, and I never wrote to
her, nothing about my affairs, or that I was married, or anything. She
couldn't talk enough. She said everybody sympathized with her, because
her prospects were ruined, because the companies I'd insured in wouldn't
pay and my land was mortgaged so I couldn't rebuild. She knew that--and
she'd never told me. And then she spoke a piece about my conduct in
getting married and never telling her a word about it beforehand. She
said she was mortified to death to have to learn about my marriage from
strangers--strangers--just accidentally. But there wasn't anything she
didn't know: that you were a millionaire, but very eccentric and not
given to going around like a rational being--in society; and that you
had places around in different States and always made it a point not to
know your neighbors, so you wouldn't have them come dropping in
interfering with you; and that you were amusing yourself now with
putting my affairs on their legs again; and how lucky it was for me; and
how strange it was, when I was making a brilliant marriage, not to make
it, at least, in a dignified, even if not in a brilliant manner, with a
church wedding and all. There wasn't anything she didn't know. I believe
she used detectives to find out. And she ended up by saying that she had
a lovely disposition and would forgive me--I could have killed her--I
was her only first cousin's only child--and she was coming here to
live."

"The deuce she did!"

"But what did you do it for?" She turned on him furiously. "What did you
do it for?"

"Yes--but where's this Cousin Mary?"

"We had a scene--at least, part of one: we didn't either of us say half
we wanted to--and she's left. She'll probably decide in the end, though,
that her disposition's lovely enough to overlook it, and insist on
making her home with her eccentric millionaire cousin-in-law--What did
you d