Lutie had passed into the library, leaving them together in the hall. She had experienced a sudden sensation of nausea. It was impossible for her to remain in the presence of this shattered old hulk and still be able to keep the disgust from showing itself in her eyes. She was the wife of a real man, and the wife of a man whom she could love and caress and yield herself to with a thrill of ecstasy in her blood. "The young lady I was speaking to you about some weeks ago, madam,—the daughter of my friend who conducts the _delicatessen_ just below us in Sixth Avenue. You remember I spoke to you of the Southern lady reduced to a commercial career by—" "I remember. I remember thinking at the time that it might be the mother who would prevail—I am sorry, Wade. I shouldn't have said that—" "It's quite all right," said he amiably. "It is barely possible—ay, even probable,—that it was the mother who prevailed. They sometimes do, you know. But Marian appears to have a mind of her own. She loves me, Mrs. Thorpe. I am quite sure of that. It would be pretty hard to deceive me." Through all of this Anne was far from oblivious to the sinister comparisons the man was drawing. She had always been a little afraid of him. Now an uneasy horror was laying its hold upon her. He had used her as an example in persuading a silly, unsophisticated girl to give herself to him. He had gone about his courtship in the finery his dead master had left behind him. "I thank you for your good wishes, Mrs. Thorpe," he went on, smoothly. "If it is not too much to ask, I should like to have you say a few good words for me to Marian some day soon. She would be very greatly influenced by the opinion of so great a lady as—" "But I thought you said it was settled," she broke in sharply. "It is settled," he said. "But if you would only do me the favour of—er—advising her to name an earlier day than the seventeenth, I—" "I cannot advise her, Wade," said she firmly. "It is out of the question." "I am sorry," he said, lowering his gaze. "Mr. Thorpe was my best friend as well as my master. I thought, for his sake, you might consent to—" "You must do your own pleading, Wade," she interrupted, a red spot appearing in each cheek. Then rashly: "You may continue to court her in Mr. Thorpe's clothes but you need not expect his wife to lend her assistance also." His eyes glittered. "I am sorry if I have offended you, ma'am. And I thank you for being honest and straightforward with me. It is always best." "I did not mean to hurt your feelings, Wade," she began, half-sorry for her remark. "Not in the least, ma'am. Nothing can hurt my feelings. You see, I lived with Mr. Thorpe a great deal longer than you did. I got quite beyond being hurt." She drew a step nearer. "Wade," she said quietly, "I am going to advise you, not this wretched girl who is planning to marry you. How old are you?"