"No. I came expressly to see you," and his air of dogged determination was not to be mistaken. Kathleen came to a sudden decision. "Suppose we go into the drawing-room," she suggested. "I can spare you a few minutes." But once in the room she did not sit down. "Why do you wish to see me, Mr. Spencer?" "To ask you to marry me." Sinclair's usually florid face was white, and his customary self-assurance had departed. "I thank you for the compliment," with icy politeness, "but I must decline your proposal." "You--you refuse?" Spencer spoke as in a dream. "Yes. Surely, Mr. Spencer, you cannot have expected any other answer--cannot have deluded yourself into thinking that I could possibly accept you? I have tried in every means within my power to discourage your attentions." "But why?" Spencer's air castles were tumbling about his ears, but he stuck to his guns. His affection for Kathleen, fanned by her indifference, had become all-absorbing. Courted and flattered by mothers with marriageable daughters, he had come to believe that he had but to speak to win Kathleen. "Why discuss the matter further?" asked Kathleen. She heartily wished the scene over; it had not been of her seeking. To wantonly hurt another's feelings was alien to her nature, and that Spencer was suffering his demeanor betrayed. "I must." Spencer came a step nearer. "Tell me why you refuse me." "Your habits ..." "I haven't touched a drop of wine since that dinner at Chevy Chase," triumphantly. "And if you don't approve, I'll not take another drink as long as I live." "I certainly think it would be better for you to stick to that resolution." Kathleen moved toward the hall door. "I really do not see any object in prolonging this discussion." "But I do," following her. "I have perhaps startled you by my abrupt manner. I do love you, Kathleen"--his voice shook--"love you better than anybody. I know that I can make you care for me. I have money ..." "That makes no difference." "With you, perhaps not," but Spencer looked dubious. "I swear never to touch wine again. I will gratify your every wish"--Kathleen shook her head, and he added heatedly, "What is there about me you don't like?" "I--I cannot tell--" Kathleen edged toward the door. "It's a case of 'Dr. Fell.'" "Fell?" Spencer turned red, his self-esteem pricked at last. "Is that another name for Captain Miller?" with insolent significance. Kathleen stepped back as if struck. "I think it time to end this conversation," she said, but her remark received no attention. "I see it all now," muttered Spencer. "Captain Miller has won your affection." "He has not." The contradiction slipped from Kathleen with more vehemence than she intended. Spencer brightened. In endeavoring to convince herself, she had thoroughly convinced him. "You are not engaged to him?" he asked eagerly.