"Will or no will, I have a certainty of five thousand dollars a year till I am thirty," I retorted. "How many of the brave young chaps you talk about can gain as much as that? And when I am thirty I get possession of the entire estate, a quarter of a million now, and more when that time comes. But I am not going to debate the matter with you. You are a coquette, Statia Barton, and have had your amusement with me. Some day, when you hear I have gone to the devil, a little remorse may touch your heart. I don't care a rap now whether I live or die." She paled at the concluding sentence. "Don't add crime to your follies," she said, in a low tone. "Existence does not end with this brief life on earth. When you have time to reflect, you will be ashamed of your present state of mind. If there is anything I can do for you, short of sacrificing my whole future--" "I know," I responded, sarcastically. "You are willing to be 'a sister' to me!" "I am, indeed!" she answered, fervently. "It's what you need much more than a wife. You accuse me of coquetry, because I have tried to treat you as--well--as the closest friend of my brother Tom. I fear your experience with women has not fitted you to be a good judge of their actions." "They are pretty much alike," I snarled. "Selfish to the core, when you get at their true natures. All this talk amounts to nothing. So, I'll say good-by, for as soon as I can get my things packed I'm going to get out of the country." She seemed genuinely distressed, and like the soft fellow I always was where her sex is concerned I found myself relenting. "Dr. Chambers advises travel," I explained, in a gentler tone. "His exact prescription was, 'Marry the nicest girl you know, then take a journey to some place where you can forget the troubles through which you have passed.' If I can't carry out the first part, I can the last." Statia's face lit up. "And am I--really--the 'nicest girl you know,' that you came so straight to me with your proposal?" she asked. "I thought so an hour ago," I responded, growing gloomy again. "I've intended for two years to ask you sometime, though I didn't think it would be so soon. I supposed you knew what was on my mind, and it never occurred to me that, instead of accepting my offer, you would play the schoolma'am with me. But let it go now. I believe I shall live through it, after all. That cursed insomnia leaves a man ready for the blues on the slightest provocation. The sooner I get out of this part of the world the better." She asked if I had decided where to go, and I told her I had not. I thought the best thing was to get on the sea as soon as I could and keep out of sight of land for awhile. "I don't think you ought to go alone," she said, thoughtfully. "Perhaps you would undertake to chaperone me," I suggested, mischievously. "No. It would be too great a responsibility. But, seriously, you should have some one. You are not in a condition to make a long journey alone."