"Can't you understand, Billy?" she pleaded, softly. "I can't help seeing what a cur you are. I must hate you, Billy--of course, I must," she insisted, very gently, as though arguing the matter with herself; then suddenly she sobbed and wrung her hands in anguish. "Oh, I can't, I can't!" she wailed. "God help me, I can't hate you, even though I know you for what you are!" His arms lifted a little; and in a flash Margaret knew that what she most wanted in all the world was to have them close about her, and then to lay her head upon his shoulder and cry contentedly. Oh, she did want to forgive him! If he had lost all sense of shame, why could he not lie to her? Surely, he could at least lie? And, oh, how gladly she would believe!--only the tiniest, the flimsiest fiction, her eyes craved of him. But he merely said "I see--I see," very slowly, and then smiled. "We'll put the money aside just now," he said. "Perhaps, after a little, we--we'll came back to that. I think you've forgotten, though, that when--when Uncle Fred and I had our difference you had just thrown me over--had just ordered me never to speak to you again? I couldn't very well ask you to marry me, could I, under those circumstances?" "I spoke in a moment of irritation," a very dignified Margaret pointed out; "you would have paid no attention whatever to it if you had really--cared." Billy laughed, rather sadly. "Oh, I cared right enough," he said. "I still care. The question is--do you?" "No," said Margaret, with decision, "I don't--not in the _least_." "Peggy," Mr. Woods commanded, "look at me!" "You have had your answer, I think," Miss Hugonin indifferently observed. Billy caught her chin in his hand and turned her face to his. "Peggy, do you--care?" he asked, softly. And Margaret looked into his honest-seeming eyes and, in a panic, knew that her traitor lips were forming "yes." "That would be rather unfortunate, wouldn't it?" she asked, with a smile. "You see, it was only an hour ago I promised to marry Mr. Kennaston." "Kennaston!" Billy gasped. "You--you don't mean that you care for _him_, Peggy?" "I really can't see why it should concern you," said Margaret, sweetly, "but since you ask--I do. You couldn't expect me to remain inconsolable forever, you know." Then the room blurred before her eyes. She stood rigid, defiant. She was dimly aware that Billy was speaking, speaking from a great distance, it seemed, and then after a century or two his face came back to her out of the whirl of things. And, though she did not know it, they were smiling bravely at one another. "--and so," Mr. Woods was stating, "I've been an even greater ass than usual, and I hope you'll be very, very happy." [Illustration: "Billy unfolded it slowly, with a puzzled look growing in his countenance."] "Thank you," she returned, mechanically, "I--I hope so." After an interval, "Good-night, Peggy," said Mr. Woods. "Oh--? Good-night," said she, with a start.