Therefore it was Ronnie who answered the sharp ring of the bell. When he saw the girl his jaw dropped. "Really, Beryl! You place me in a most awkward position. Whatever made you come? Steppe was here--suppose he came back? Why didn't you bring somebody with you?" He was flustered and scared. Steppe might return at any moment. "I'm sorry I have outraged the proprieties," said Beryl with a little smile. "Did that child from the druggist's have a chaperon?" "Eh?" Ronnie was startled. "I saw her come in and I saw her go out. I've been waiting for an opportunity of seeing you. She's pretty, but, oh, Ronald, she's only a baby!" Ronnie made a quick recovery from his surprise. If she had seen Evie, she had also seen Steppe and must be sure that he had gone. She would probably know from her father what were their plans for the night. "I give you my word of honor, Beryl," said he earnestly, "that she merely came to see me about her sister--you know her, Christina, I think she is called. Evie is very anxious that I should help send her abroad. As far as Evie is concerned, you can put your mind at rest. I give you my solemn word of honor that I have never a& much as held her hand." She knew he was lying, but tonight of all nights she must accept his word. She was in a fever: it was almost painful to hold fast to the last shreds of her failing reserve. "Ronald." Her voice was tremulous and he braced himself for a scene. "You don't want me to marry Steppe?" So that was it. And he had thought she had accepted the position so admirably. "Ronald, you know it would be--death to me--worse than death to me. Can't you--can't you use your imagination?" Her eyes avoided his: that alone helped to restore a little of his poise. She had come as a suppliant, and would not be difficult to handle. The old Beryl, polished, cynical mistress of herself and her emotions, might have beaten him down; induced God knows what, extravagant promises. "I don't want to talk about what has happened. I am not reproaching you or appealing to any sense of duty but--" She stood there, her eyes downcast, twisting her gloves into tight spirals. He said nothing, holding his arguments in reserve against her exhaustion. "You make it hard, awfully hard for me, Ronnie. You do know--Steppe wants to marry me?" He nodded. "Do you realize what that means--to me, Ronnie?" "He's not a bad fellow," protested Ronnie. "Really, Beryl, I never dreamed you were going to take this line. Is it decent?" "He's--he's awful, Ronnie, you know he's awful. He's hideous, he's just animal all through. Animal with reasoning powers, gross--horrible. You liked me, Ronnie," she was pleading now. "Why--why don't you marry me? I love you--I must have loved you. I could learn to respect you so easily. They say you're rotten, but you're of my own kind. Ronnie, don't you know what it means to me to say this--don't you know?"