shook his head, exclaiming, "Second-hand goods, my boy!"

"That's a lie!" Lorelei's voice was like a whip.

Mr. Wharton eyed her grimly. "That's something for Bob to
determine--I have only the indications to go on. I don't blame him
for losing his wits--you're very good-looking--but the affair must
end. You're not a girl I'd care to have in my family--pardon my
bluntness."

She met his eyes fairly. At no time had she flinched before him,
although inwardly she had cringed and her flesh had quivered at
his merciless attack.

"You have told Bob the truth," she began, slowly, "in the worst
possible way; you have put me in the most unfavorable light. I
dare say I never would have had the courage to tell him myself,
although he deserves to know. I've been pretty--commercial--
because I had to be, but I never sold myself, and I sha'n't begin
now. Bob isn't a child; he's nearly thirty years old--old enough
to make up his own mind--and he must make this decision, not I."

Bob opened his lips, but his father forestalled him.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I have no price. If he's sick of the match we'll end it, and it
won't cost you a cent."

Bob looked inscrutable; his father smiled for the first time