"Of me!" she cried shrilly, and she burst into wild hysterical laughter. It broke off as abruptly as it began. "Unworthy of me--of me? the daughter of a drunken mother, the sister of a girl who--" A sob choked her. She went on desperately: "You have told me all. But I--do you not wonder why I kept silent--why I denied Mary by my silence? You say you sought to harm Tom--down there. You did not know he was my brother. You thought he would harm me. Is it not so?" "I doubted you!" "Why? Because I failed to tell the truth. I feared to hurt him--to make trouble between him and his rich, high-bred wife. As if I should not have known better the moment I saw Genevieve! Dear sister! she knows all. But you--Either I should have spoken, or I should have hidden all my fondness for him. But I could not hide my love for him--and I was ashamed to tell." "Ashamed--you?" "We lived in the slums. They told me my father was a big man, a man such as Tom is now. He was a railroad engineer. He was killed when I was a baby. Then we sank into the slums. My mother--she died when I was twelve. There was then only Mary and I and Tom. He could make only a little, working at odd jobs. Mary and I worked in a factory. Even she was under age. When I was going on fourteen there came a terrible winter when thousands were out of work. We almost starved." "You--starved!" murmured Ashton. "Starved! And I was starting in at college, flinging away money!" "Tom tried to force people to let him work," the girl went on drearily. "He was violent. They put him in jail. Soon Mary and I had nothing left. There was no work for us. We had sold everything that anyone would buy. The rent was overdue. They turned us out--on the streets.... I was too young; but Mary.... She found a place where I could stay. They were decent people, but hard.... "The weather was bitterly cold. She was taken sick. When the people with whom I was staying heard what she had done, they refused to help. I begged in the street. I was very small and thin. The--the beasts did not trouble me. Then, when Mary was very sick, I met Daddy. I begged from him. He did not give me a nickel and pass on. He stopped and made me talk--he made me take him to Mary. "He had her moved to the best hospital.... It was too late.... I also had pneumonia. They said I would die. But Daddy brought me home just as soon as I could be moved. The railroad was then a hundred miles from Dry Mesa. But he kept me wrapped in furs, and all the way he carried me in his arms. Do you wonder why I love him so?... That is all. You see now why I shrank from telling--why I denied Mary."