It was she who broke the spell. Her voice sounded far off—and exhausted, as if it came from her lips without breath behind it. "It will always be just the same, Braden," she said, and he knew that it was an acknowledgment of his unfinished reminder. She was promising him something. He took a firm grip on himself. "I'm glad that you see things as they are, Anne. Now, I must be off. Thanks just the same for—" "Oh, don't mention it," she said carelessly. "I'm glad that you see things too as they are, Braden." She held out her hand. There was no restraint in her manner. "I'm sorry, Braden. Things might have been so different. I'm sorry." "Good God!" he burst out. "If you had only been—" He broke off, resolutely compressing his lips. His jaw was set again in the strong old way that she knew so well. She nodded her head slowly. "If I had only been some one else instead of myself," she said, "it would not have happened." He turned toward the door, stopped short and then turned to face her. There was a strange expression in his grey eyes, not unlike diffidence. "Percy told me last night that you have refused to marry him. I'm glad that you did that, Anne. I want you to know that I am glad, that I felt—oh, I cannot tell you how I felt when he told me." She eyed him closely for a moment. "You thought that I—I might have accepted him. Is that it?" "I—I hadn't thought of it at all," he said, confusedly. "Well," she said, and a slight pallor began to reveal itself in her face, "I tried marrying for money once, Braden. The next time I shall try marrying for love." He stared. "You don't mince words, do you?" he said, frowning. "No," she said. "Percy will tell you that, I fancy," she added, and smiled. "He can't understand my not marrying him. He will be worth fifteen or twenty millions, you know." The irony in her voice was directed inwardly, not outwardly. "Perhaps it would be safer for him to wait before taking too much for granted. You see, I haven't actually refused him. I merely refused to give him an option. He—" "Oh, Anne, don't jest about—" he began, and then as her eyes fell suddenly under his gaze and her lip trembled ever so slightly,—"By Jove, I—I sha'n't misjudge you in that way again. Good-bye." This time he held out his hand to her. She shook her head. "I've changed my mind. I'm never going to say good-bye to you again." "Never say good-bye? Why, that's—" "Why should I say good-bye to you when you are always with me?" she broke in. Noting the expression in his eyes she went on ruthlessly, breathlessly. "Do you think I ought to be ashamed to say such a thing to you? Well, I'm not. It doesn't hurt my pride to say it. Not in the least." She paused for an instant and then went on boldly. "I fancy I am more honest with myself than you are with yourself, Braden."