says Tita. "At least, that's what the novels say."

"He might," says Rylton deliberately. He leans forward. "Will you
marry _me?"_

He almost laughs aloud as he makes his extraordinary proposal. If it
fails, as it certainly _must_, he will throw up the remnant of his
life here and go abroad. And, at all events, he can so far satisfy
his mother as to assure her that he had placed his all at this
little heiress's feet.

"You! You!" says she.

She stares at him.

"Even me! You said a moment ago that no man would ask you to marry
him for any reason less than love; but I--I am not in love with you,
and yet I ask you to marry me."

He pauses here, shocked at his own words, his brutal audacity.

"But why?" asks the girl slowly.

She is looking at him, deep inquiry and wonder in her great gray
eyes.

"Because I am poor and you are rich," says he honestly. "Your money
could redeem this old place, and I could give you a title--a small
thing, no doubt."