It was on the edge of her mind to repeat them then to him, but she refrained. It was better then, at that moment, to let him think that he had no cause to blame himself. "No, my mind's perfectly easy," he added. "Thank God, I don't pose for a paragon; I've got the beast in me all right, but I've treated you square--absolutely square." Her fingers clutched. To win her desires she must let him think so. And perhaps he had treated her square; she supposed he had. "Then help me not to be lonely now," she begged. She could see the wave of repulsion beat across his face, but even that did not deter her. "Oh, I don't mean that you should come back and live with me," she went on. "It isn't for that. You can't--you surely can't hate me as much as all that." It was not in her knowledge to realize that he must love her, greater than he had ever loved, if she were to win. To the woman needing the child it is the child alone; to the man, the child is only the child when it is his. "I don't hate you," he said. He picked up his hat from the settee, and her heart dropped to a leaden weight. "You seem to harp on that. But what you ask, you surely must realize is frankly impossible. I don't wish to be responsible for a child." "You needn't be responsible," she said eagerly. "You need never see it. You've been generous enough to me in what you've given me. I shan't ask for a penny more--I shan't use the child to extract money from you. You'll never hear from me again. After all, you have loved me," she said piteously. "You did love me once." He turned angrily away. "My God!" he exclaimed. "You talk as if you were out of your mind! If I did have a child, I should want to see it. I shouldn't want to be ashamed of it; I shouldn't want to disown it, as you'd have me do." "Well, then, you might see it as often as you wished." He strode to the door. She must have it now. He had meant to say nothing, wishing to save her feelings; but she must have it now. "Then I'm engaged to be married," he said firmly. "Do you see now that it's impossible?" She dropped into a chair, staring strangely at his face. "You--married?" she whispered. "Yes; and I've no desire to have things cropping up in my life afterwards, just in the way that this Mrs. Priestly in the divorce courts--" Sally struggled to her feet. "Mrs. Priestly?" "Yes; what about her? Do you know her?" "What do you know about her?" she asked. "I'm counsel for her husband." "You're cross-examining her?" Straight through her mind leapt that scene in the divorce court when she had witnessed his attack upon the miserable woman whom the law had placed out for his feet to trample on. "Yes," he replied. "What _do_ you know about her?" She sank back into her chair saying nothing. "You won't say?" She shook her head.