He had moved forward and his coat-tails had fallen into their normal position, so the “queerness” of his outward appearance was modified; but, as he stood there, with his puzzled, wistful expression, slowly and impersonally picking himself to pieces, so to speak, Cabot felt an overwhelming rush of pity for him, pity and a sort of indignant impatience. “Oh, shut up, Galusha!” he snapped. “Don't be so confoundedly absurd. You are one of the cleverest men in the world in your line. You are distinguished. You are brilliant. If you were as queer as Dick's hatband--whatever that is--it would make no difference; you have a right to be. And when you tell me that a woman--yes, almost any woman, to say nothing of one lost down here in these sand-hills--wouldn't marry you in a minute, you're worse than queer--you're crazy, absolutely crazy.” “But--but Cousin Gussie, you forget. If there were no other reasons, you forget what I have done. She could never believe in me again. No, nor forgive me.” “Oh, DON'T! You disturb my digestion. Do you suppose there is a woman on earth who wouldn't forgive a man who gave up thirteen thousand dollars just to help her out of a difficulty? Gave it up, as you did, without a whimper or even a whisper? And whose one worry has been that she might find out the truth about his weird generosity? Oh, Loosh, Loosh, you ARE crazy.” Galusha made no attempt to deny the charge of insanity. He was thinking rapidly now and his face expressed his thought. “Do you--do you really think she might forgive me?” he asked, breathlessly. “Think! Why, she and I had a long talk just before I came over here. She thinks you are the best and most wonderful man on earth and all she feared was that you had taken your last cent, or even borrowed the money, to come to her rescue. When I told her you were worth a quarter of a million, she felt better, but it didn't lessen her gratitude. Forgive you! Oh, good Lord!” Galusha had heard only the first part of this speech. The ecstatic expression was returning. He drew a long breath. “I--I wonder if she really would consider such a thing?” he murmured. “Consider what? Marriage? Well, I should say she wouldn't take much time for consideration. She'll jump at it, I tell you. You are the one to consider, old man. You are rich, and famous. Yes, and, although I have never pinned quite as much faith to the 'family' idea as most of our people do, still we have a sort of tradition to keep up, you know. Now this--er--Miss Phipps is all right, no doubt; her people were good people, doubtless, but--well, some of our feminine second and third cousins will make remarks, Galusha. They surely will.” Galusha did not even trouble to answer this speech. His cousin continued.