"It's the inconsistency," she answered without flinching, perceiving
that he understood.

George flushed to the roots of his hair. "You compare me with
that--er--blatherskite?" he asked, conscious as he spoke that her
logic was irrefutable. Yet his self-respect cried out to try to save
itself.

"Why not? The civil-service law seemed a frill to Jim Daly; the
customs law an impertinence to you."

He looked down at the hearth again. There was an air of finality in
her words which was disconcerting.

"I've been an ass," he ejaculated. "I'll give the things up; pay the
duties; go to prison, if you like. The punishment is fine or
imprisonment." He intended to be sincere in his offer of
self-humiliation, though his speech savored of extravagance.

Mary shrugged her shoulders. "If you did, I dare say a bevy of society
women would tender you a banquet when you were released from jail."

He bit his lip and stared at her. "You are taking this seriously with
a vengeance!"

"I must."

He crossed the room and, bending beside her, sought to take her hand.
"Do you mean that but for this--? Mary, are you going to let a little
thing like this separate us?"