He looked at her with half a smile. "I am glad," said Caroline. "Are you? Well say it a little more as if you meant it." Against herself she laughed. Then he stretched out his hand. "You don't bear me any grudge, Caroline?" "Why should I?" She did not take his hand, and with a quick frown he let it drop to his side. "Well, you know you have not written me a line since I have been away." She looked at him with open eyes at this. "Did you expect me to write?" "Of course," he said, with a smile. "It would have been the proper thing for a ward to do. And that brings me to the question I put to you just now. Are you still angry with me because I tried to enforce my authority when last I saw you?" "No," she said, "I am not angry." "Then look more pleasant." Again she had to laugh, but it was a very transitory laugh. "I thought you wanted to talk about the children." "You are one of the children," he answered. As she made an impatient movement he changed his tone. "I want to talk to you about myself. I'm not exactly a child, but I find I want some one to give me just a little of the attention that you give Betty and Baby." She grew very hot, and found it rather difficult to breathe. "I am not satisfied with you only as a ward," Haverford said, and there was an indescribable note of tenderness in his voice, "because there are such difficulties in the way of seeing you. I want you for something closer, better, more helpful. Caroline, will you be my wife?" She stopped dead, and looked at him with eyes ablaze, then, in a choked voice, she said-- "No!" and then again, "No!" and then she walked on very quickly. He followed her. "You can't mean that," he said, his tone one of absolute astonishment. She answered him over her shoulders. "I do most emphatically." He looked quite dismayed, and the girl broke in hurriedly, "Of course it is very astonishing, I suppose; but call it a caprice, if you like, I have an objection to marry a very rich man. I have an objection," she said, with quivering lips, "to be chosen for a wife just as somebody would choose a carpet, or a piece of furniture." "Good God!" said Haverford. "Do you suppose that I want to buy you?" "I don't suppose anything," said Caroline, "except that I thank you very much for your offer; and I decline it." He let her walk on, and stood looking after her bewildered and pained. She had grown so closely into his thoughts of late, she had become so individualized with all his new schemes for the future, she was so necessary, so dear, so precious (especially since he had learned how he had misjudged her, and Mrs. Brenton had lost very little time in making him acquainted with this) that he could hardly realize that she had turned so deliberately away from him.