"You did, Gay, and when you said it, I thought you meant it. I believe you did mean it then. Oh, Gay, dear, I want to quit drifting! I want to settle down and be a good wife to some man who’ll take care of me, some one I can love and help and be faithful to! Oh, you don’t know how faithful I’d be, Gay! I’d do anything. I’m so tired of drifting—I’m so afraid I’ll go on like this! I’m not a grafter, Gay, you know I’m not! But I want to get married and be happy!" "You ought to have said that two months ago," he said, knocking the ash from his cigarette with exquisite attention. "Don’t you want me now?" she said, shaking her head pathetically. She reached for his hand. "I like you, Gay, I’ve always liked you and I think I could learn to love you sometime. But I’d be true to you, anyway. Take me, please, Gay! I can’t stand it any longer." "For Heaven’s sake, don’t talk so loud, Fancy; somebody’ll hear you! Say, this isn’t fair! I gave you a good chance, and you threw me down. Why didn’t you take me then? I was crazy about you, but no, you wouldn’t have it!" "Then you’ve got all over it? You don’t want me now?" He had a sudden access of pity, and stroked her hand. "Why, I couldn’t make you happy, Fancy? You know that. You wouldn’t have me marry you if I wasn’t in love with you, would you? I suppose I have got over it; I was fascinated, and I thought it was the real thing. We all make mistakes. I’ve been about a good bit since then, and I know more of the world. I’m sorry, but it’s too late." She looked away, and for a moment her eyes closed. "I guess nobody wants me, then. Men get tired of me, don’t they? I’m good enough to play with for a little while, but—I can’t make good as a wife. Never mind. I thought perhaps you were in earnest, that’s all. I’m sorry I bothered you. You can go, now!" He went up to her and put his hand on her shoulder. She shook it off, shuddering. "Go _away_!" she cried. He took his hat and left her. For a quarter of an hour she sat there, and then, looking up haggardly, stared about the room. She consulted the little chatelaine watch that dangled on her breast. Going up to a mirror, she attempted to straighten her hair, but her hands shook so that it was of little use. She was, even in that warm room, shivering. Then she rose and went down the carpeted passage, past luxurious paintings, past the compartments filled with giggling women and tipsy men, out into the night again. The rain had stopped at last, but it was cold and gusty. Great detached masses of cloud pied the heavens, and in the clear spaces of sky the stars shone, twinkling brilliantly. She turned down Market Street. Half-way to the ferry she met Dougal, almost falling into his arms before she recognized him. "Well, I’ve found you at last!" he exclaimed. "Lord, how wet you are! Come right along home with me, and Elsie will give you some dry clothes."