She looked away. In all her thoughts of the man before her there had not lurked this possibility. She had been bred among youth who, whatever their other vices, maintained a chivalric ideal of womankind which excluded fast-and-loose conduct; and the whispers that clung about Cameron Craig--set, as they were, over against his force and undeniably brilliant attainments--had lent her opinion of him a certain cold contempt. And now here he was--he of all men!--saying this to her! And it was no hasty impulse: she read that in the steady, confident eyes, the hard, heavy jaw, the steadfast, deep-lined face. She felt his waiting gaze. "No," she answered, slowly. "Perhaps it is not strange. It is only that the unexpected seems so." She looked at him curiously. "Why did you ask me--to-day?" "The opportunity came," he said. "It must have, sooner or later." "So you have intended for some time to say this to me?" "Since I first met you, a year ago," he answered. "You have two things that I want--as I have their complements." She considered this a moment. "Forgive me," she said then, "but I am a very curious person--as well, it seems, as a very blind one. Would you mind telling me what are those two qualities that you imagine I possess, which you value so highly?" "Breeding, first," he replied, "and all that it implies. You represent a stock." She nodded gravely. "And the other desideratum?" "Beauty. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen." "And--the complements of these things, that you possess?" "Money," he answered. "And the power it gives--the accessories which a woman like you must have if she would really live. I think you don't doubt that my wife shall have these things." She shook her head. "Not in the least. Indeed, I am sure she will. But you see, Mr. Craig, I happen to be not at all the sort of person you think I am--the kind you wish to marry." "I'll risk that!" he flung her. "The proof is that you ask me--as you have. The things you have to offer seem overwhelmingly attractive to you, no doubt, but I'm afraid they mean much less to me." He could not see the look that was in her face now, for her head was turned away. "I have no longing for money. I could be contented in a mountain lean-to, with morning-glories instead of an orchid conservatory. I could cook my own meals on a gas-stove and live in one room over a hardware store--with the man I loved. I don't care particularly for what you call 'place' either. I could be happy enough on a prairie--with the man I loved. But love must be there, Mr. Craig." "Do you doubt my love for you?" he asked. "You had not cited it," she rejoined, calmly. "You spoke of money first--" "Because I have lived long enough to know that it is the paramount requisite in most women's eyes."