"But the sacrifice is the point. No girl wants to become one of a family which has to make such an effort to take her." There was already a whisper of insecurity in his tone. "Even so, I can't see why you shouldn't let the effort be our affair. Since we make it on our own responsibility--" "I don't care anything about the responsibility, sir. All I'm thinking of is that the effort must be made." "But what did you expect?" "I haven't said that I expected anything. If I've been of the slightest help to Mrs. Brokenshire I'm happy to let the service be its own reward." "But I'm not. It isn't my habit to remain under an obligation to any one." "Nor mine," I said, demurely. He stared. "What does that mean? I don't follow you." "Perhaps not, sir; but I quite follow you. You wish me to understand that, in spite of my deficiencies, you accept me as your son's wife--for the reason that you can't help yourself." Two sharp hectic spots came out on each cheek-bone. "Well, what if I do?" "I'm far too generous to put you in that position. I couldn't take you at a disadvantage, not even for the sake of marrying Hugh." I was not sure whether he was frightened or angry, but it was the one or the other. "Do you mean to say that, now--now that I'm ready--" "That I'm not? Yes, sir. That's what I do mean to say. I told you once that if I loved a man I shouldn't stop to consider the wishes of his relatives; but I've repented of that. I see now that marriage has a wider application than merely to individuals; and I'm not ready to enter any family that doesn't want me." I looked off into the golden dimnesses of the hillside wood in order not to be a witness of the struggle he was making. "And suppose"--it was almost a groan--"and suppose I said we--wanted you?" It was like bending an iron bar; but I gave my strength to it. "You'd have to say it differently from that, sir." He spoke hoarsely. "Differently--in what sense?" I knew I had him, as Hugh would have expressed it, where I had been trying to get him. "In the sense that if you want me you must ask me." He mopped his brow once more. "I--I have asked you." "You've said you withdrew your opposition. That's not enough." Beads or perspiration were again standing on his forehead. "Then what--what would be--enough?" "A woman can't marry any one unless she does it as something of a favor." He drew himself up. "Do you remember that you're talking to me?" "Yes, sir; and it's because I do remember it that I have to insist. With anybody else I shouldn't have to be so crude." Again he put up a struggle, and this time I watched him. If his wife had made the conditions I guessed at, I had nothing to do but sit still. Grasping the arms of his chair, he half rose as if to continue the interview no further, but immediately saw, as I inferred, what that would mean to him. He fell back again into the creaking depths of the chair. "What do you wish me to say?"