"Maybe so. But--I really believe she doesn't realize. She's queer--has
been queerly brought up. Yes, I think she doesn't appreciate. Then, too,
she's young and light--almost childish in some ways. . . . I don't blame
you for being disgusted with me, Fred. But--damn it, what's a man to
do?"

"Cure himself!" exploded Norman, wheeling violently on his friend. "You
must act like a man. Billy, such a marriage is ruin for you. How can we
take you into partnership next year? When you marry, you must marry in
the class you're moving toward, not in any of those you're leaving
behind."

"Do you suppose I haven't thought of all that?" rejoined Tetlow
bitterly. "But I can't help myself. It's useless for me to say I'll try.
I shan't try."

"Don't you want to get over this?" demanded Norman fiercely.

"Of course--No--I don't. Fred, you'd think better of me if you knew
her. You've never especially noticed her. She's beautiful."

Norman dropped to his chair again.

"Really--beautiful," protested Tetlow, assuming that the gesture was one
of disgusted denial. "Take a good look at her, Norman, before you
condemn her. I never was so astonished as when I discovered how
good-looking she is. I don't quite know how it is, but I suppose nobody
ever happened to see how--how lovely she is until I just chanced to see
it." At a rudely abrupt gesture from Norman he hurried on, eagerly
apologetic, "And if you talk with her--She's very reserved. But she's