"If I only knew how to get Sam to the mountains," Claire said in a sort of desperation. "You have just paved the way." "How?" "You have told me." "You are going to help?" "Yes." "O, how beautiful!" "I am glad that, for once, I have the good fortune to please you." Claire's happy smile faded. She turned her face away, pretending to busy herself with Radcliffe's books. "I see I have offended once more." She hesitated a moment, then faced him squarely. "There can be no question of your either pleasing or offending me, Mr. Ronald. What you are doing for Martha makes me glad, of course, but that is only because I rejoice in any good that may come to her. I would not take it upon myself to praise you for doing a generous act, or to blame you if you didn't do it." "'Cr-r-rushed again!'" observed Francis Ronald gravely, but with a lurking, quizzical light of laughter in his eyes. For an instant Claire was inclined to be resentful. Then, her sense of humor coming to the rescue, she dropped her heroics and laughed out blithely. "How jolly it must be to have a lot of money and be able to do all sorts of helpful, generous things!" she said lightly. "You think money the universal solvent?" "I think the lack of it the universal _in_solvent." "I hope you don't lay too much emphasis on it." "Why?" "Because it might lead you to do violence to your better impulses, your higher instincts." "Why should a man think he has the right to say that sort of thing to a woman? Would you consider it a compliment if I suggested that your principles were hollow--negotiable? That they were For Sale or To Let, like an empty house?" "I suppose most men would tell you they have no use for principle in their business--only principal." "And you think women--" "Generally women have both principle and interest in the business of life. That's why we look to them to keep up the moral standard. That's why we feel it to be unworthy of her when a girl makes a mercenary marriage." The indignant blood sprang to Claire's cheeks. What business had he to interfere in her affairs, to warn her against marrying Bob Van Brandt, assuming that, if she did marry him, it would be only for money. She was glad that Radcliffe bounded in just then, throwing himself upon her in his eagerness to tell her all that had befallen him during their long separation of two hours, when he had been playing on the Mall under Beetrice's unwatchful eye. In spite of Martha, Claire had just been on the point of confessing to Mr. Ronald. He had seemed so friendly, so much less formidable than at any time since that first morning. But she must have been mistaken, for here were all the old barriers up in an instant, and with them the resentful fire in her heart.