“Thank you,” she said, tears in her eyes; and she dropped back into her reverie, he resuming his work. There was a long pause between them—a pause filled by the song of birds thronging the foliage above and around them, and by the soft music of the falling waters. “Sometimes I think it’s an awful bad thing for people to have all the money they want—to be rich,” said she pensively. “That’s one trouble with our family.”

“Why, you told me you had to marry for money,” said Roger, much surprised. He hated liars; he was loath to believe that she had lied to him.

She looked miserably confused. “You didn’t understand quite,” she replied hastily. “And I can’t explain—not now. You mustn’t ask me.”

“Ask you? It’s none of my business.”

“I didn’t mean—I didn’t mean to deceive you,” pleaded she. “But—I can’t explain now.”

“Don’t think of it again,” said he, with a careless wave of one of his long brushes. It was no new experience to find that people supposed to be rich were merely struggling along on the edge of the precipice of poverty.[92] Poor child, making one of those hideous sacrifices on the altar of snobbishness!—or, rather, being sacrificed, for she was too young to realize to the full what she was doing. Still, Peter Vanderkief did not size up so badly, as husband material went.

[92]

Silence for several minutes; she, seated again and studying his strong, handsome face with its intent, absorbed expression—concentrated, powerful. She did not venture to speak until he happened to glance at her with an absent smile. Then she inquired sweetly: “May I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.”

“Won’t you please come to dinner to-morrow night? That’s what mother’s note’s about. It would be a great favor to me. It would straighten everything out. You won’t have to do any further deceiving.”

He went on with his work. After a while he asked: “Does your Peter think you love him?”

The color mounted in her cheeks. But it was in the accents of truth that she replied: “He knows I don’t.”

“And if I came I’d not be helping to deceive him as to what you think of him?”

“No—on my honor.”

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