"Oh, indeed; you are in a mood for bargains, as well as Mr. Lanniere." "Not at all. You have stepped out of the role of the mere society girl. In that guise I shall be all deference and compliments. On the basis of downright sincerity I have my rights, and you have no right to compel me to give an honest opinion so personal in its nature without giving one in return." "I agree," she said, after a moment's thought. "Well, then, while I was by no means sure, I thought it was possible, even probable, that you would accept a man like Lanniere. I have known society girls to do such things, haven't you?" "And I tell you, Mr. Strahan, that you misjudge a great many society girls." "Oh, you must tell me a great deal more than that. Have I not just discovered that I misjudged one? Now pitch into Arthur Strahan." "I am inclined to think that I have misjudged you, also; but I will keep my compact, and give you the impression you made, and you won't like it." "I don't expect to; but I shall expect downright sincerity." "Very well. I'll test you. You are not simple and manly, even in your dress and manner; you are an anomaly in the country; you are inclined to gossip; and it's my belief that a young man should do more in life than amuse himself." Strahan flushed, but burst out laughing as he exclaimed, "My photograph, by Jupiter!" "Photographs give mere surface. Come, what's beneath it?" "In one respect, at least, I think I am on a par with yourself. I have enough honest good-nature to listen to the truth with thanks." "Is that all?" "Come, Miss Marian, what is the use of words when I have had such an example of deeds? I have caught you, red-handed, in the act of giving a millionnaire his conge. In the face of this stern fact do you suppose I am going to try to fish up some germs of manhood for your inspection? As you have suggested, I must do something, or I'm out of the race with you. I honestly believe, though, I am not such a fool as I have seemed. I shall always be something of a rattle-brain, I suppose, and if I were dying I could not help seeing the comical side of things." He hesitated a moment, and then asked, abruptly, "Miss Marian, have you read to-day's paper?" "Yes, I have," with a tinge of sadness in her tone. "Well, so have I. Think of thousands of fine young fellows lying stiff and stark in those accursed swamps!" "Yes," she cried, with a rush of tears, "I WILL think of them. I will try to see them, horrible as the sight is, even in fancy. When they died so heroically, shame on me if I turn away in weak, dainty disgust! Oh, the burning shame that Northern girls don't think more of such men and their self-sacrifice!"