“I am,” said he simply. “It wasn't fair.” “Love will endure. I am content to wait,” she said with a wistful smile. “You will be my wife, no matter what happens? You won't let this make any difference?” “You are not angry with me?” “Angry? Why should I be angry with you, Lyddy? For shaking some sense into me? For seeing through me with that wonderful, far-sighted brain of yours? Why, I could go down on my knees to you. I could------” “Let me think, Freddy,” she cried, suddenly confronted by her own declaration of the night before. She had told James Brood that she would marry this discredited son of his the instant he was ready to take her unto himself. She had flung that in the older man's face, and she had meant every word of it. “I--I take back what I said, dear. I will marry you to-morrow.” She spoke rapidly, jerkily; her eyes were very dark and luminous. “What has come over you?” He stared at her in astonishment. “What--oh, I see! You are not sure of me. You------” “Yes, yes, I am! It isn't that. I did not know what I was saying when I refused to------” “Oh, there you go, just like a woman!” he cried triumphantly. “Spoiling everything! You dear, lovable, inconsequent, regular girl! Hurray! Now we're back where we began, and I'm holding the whip. You bring me to my senses and then promptly lose your own.” He clasped her in his arms and held her close. “You dear, dear Lyddy!” “I mean it, dear heart.” The whisper smothered in his embrace. “To-morrow--to-day, if you will. We will go away. We will------” “No,” he said, quite resolutely; “you have shown me the way. I've just got to make good in your estimation before I can hold you to your promise. You're splendid, Lyddy; you're wonderful, but--well, I was unfair a while ago. I mean to be fair now. We'll wait. It's better so. I will come again and ask you, but it won't be as it was just now. It would not be right for me to take you at your word. We'll wait.” Neither spoke for many minutes. It was she who broke the silence. “You must promise one thing, Frederic. For my sake, avoid a quarrel with your father. I could not bear that. You will promise, dear? You must.” “I don't intend to quarrel with him; but if I am to remain in his house there has got to be------” He paused, his jaw set stubbornly. “Promise me you will wait. He is going away in two weeks. When he returns--later on--next fall------” “Oh, if it really distresses you, Lyddy, I'll------” “It does distress me. I want your promise.” “I'll do my part,” he said resignedly, “and next fall will see us married, so------” The telephone-bell in the hall was ringing. Frederic released Lydia's hand and sat up rather stiffly, as one who suddenly suspects that he is being spied upon. The significance of the movement did not escape Lydia. She laughed mirthlessly.