"But there were two things I feared for several reasons--Le
Mire's fascination, your own youth and impulsive recklessness,
and the rather curious mode of your departure. I feared first and
most that you would marry her; second, that you would achieve
odium and publicity for our name."

Harry was regarding me with a smile which had in it very little
of amusement; it held a tinge of bitterness.

"And so," he burst out suddenly, "you were afraid I would marry
her! Well, I would. The last time I asked her"--again the
smile--"was this morning."

"And--"

"She won't have me."

"Bah!" I concealed my surprise, for I had really not thought it
possible that the lad could be such a fool. "What's her game,
Harry?"

"Game the deuce! I tell you she won't have me."

"You have asked her?"

"A thousand times. I've begged her on my knees. Offered
her--anything."

"And she refuses?"