"Now you see why I must go to her? And you've forgotten maybe what I told you about Mr. Heron. If he's near Newport, I----" "Look here, darling, if the doctor says you can be taken there to-morrow--oh, in time to arrive before the famous ball--let's say in a comfortable motor car, travelling slowly, banked up on cushions, will you go as my wife?" Clo stared as if O'Reilly had broken into some strange language which he expected her to understand. "Your wife?" "Well--don't you expect to marry me? That's what happens when a girl and a man love each other." "Oh--some day--if you're sure you really want an ignorant little girl like me, brought up in an orphan asylum, who's worked in a shop and hasn't a penny in the world--except a dollar or two left of Mrs. Sands' money. A long time from now, when you've thought about it----" "I've thought of nothing else since we met and parted, and I realized that you were my life and soul. If you can make up your mind to 'some day,' it might just as well be to-morrow. Don't you want to console me for the loss of the only other thing, besides you, I've ever wanted with all my heart? You do if you love me. The dear old house that was my father's! You know, when you sent up your name at the Dietz as Miss O'Reilly, I believed you were my cranky cousin Theresa, come to tell me she'd changed her mind about selling the house. Why, you owe it to me, if you care, to make up for that. Your Angel's husband has bribed Theresa to sell to him. The place has passed away from me forever. But if you'll marry me to-night I shan't care. In the joy of being husband--and nurse--to the bravest and dearest mouse in the world I'll forget everything and be the happiest man on God's earth." "People don't get married at a few hours' notice." "Don't they? How long have you lived in the United States, my Irish colleen?" "Months. Over a year. But I never discussed marriage." "I'm jolly glad you didn't. But you'll hear of nothing else till the knot's tied. We do things quickly over here." Then the door opened, and the doctor came in. XXXVII THE TELEGRAM Roger Sands had hardly known himself for many days. His wife had read him aright. At times he was purposely cruel. At times he did wish to see how much she could bear and not break. Yet if she had broken, he felt that he could not have helped seizing her in his arms and forgiving her. While he dressed that night he hoped that she would send for him, or come to him, and confess that the pearls were gone, that she had given them to O'Reilly, whom she had once loved, and whom she loved no more.