"No, no!" she cried quickly, so quickly and with such an emphasis of denial that Arthur looked at her in wonder. "You must not do that. I won't allow it. He is waiting for me to give an answer to Lord Everscourt, and he would be so upset and distwessed. He likes you, and so does mother, but--Oh, you know how it is! You know what they want! You know how disappointed they would be!" "Yes, I know, and I should be sorry for them, for it would be a reasonable disappointment. You are their only daughter, and from their point of view Everscourt can do better for you than I; but, my darling, in this matter you must think first of yourself! It is your life that is at stake, and it is for you to choose whether you prefer love or riches. Your parents will bow to your decision, for they love you too much to destroy your happiness. Your mother would feel it most, but I would do my best to reconcile her to the disappointment, and as for your dear, good father, there is one thing which would grieve him infinitely more than the loss of a brilliant marriage. Can you guess what it is, Rosie?" "No," she said, "no," but her eyes drooped, and she fidgeted uneasily with the handle of her parasol. Arthur laid one hand over hers with a quick pressure, and, despite its firmness, his voice was very gentle as he replied: "Yes, you do, dear. You guess what I mean. He would rather see you married to me than know that you had deliberately sold yourself for money while your heart was given to another man. In the one case he would admire your sincerity, in the other he could feel neither admiration nor respect, nothing--it seems to me--but shame and humiliation!"