His capacious forehead crimsoned with the effort to explain. “Well, Anne’s a young woman of considerable violence of feeling ... of ... of.... In short, there’s no knowing what she might have ended by doing if we’d all backed you up in opposing her. And I confess I didn’t feel sure enough of the young man to count on his not taking advantage of her ... her impetuosity, as it were, if he thought there was no other chance.... You understand?” She understood. What he was trying to say was that, on the whole, given the girl’s self-will, and taking into account her ... well, her peculiar heredity ... taking into account, in fact, Kate Clephane herself ... the family had probably adopted the safest course in accepting the situation. “Not that I mean to imply--of course not! Only the young people nowadays settle most questions for themselves, don’t they? And in this case ... Well, all’s well that ends well. We all know that some of the most successful marriages have had ... er ... rather risky preliminaries.” Kate Clephane sat listening in a state of acquiescent lassitude. She felt as if she had been given a drug which had left her intelligence clear but paralyzed her will. What was the use of arguing, discussing, opposing? Later, of course, if everything else failed, Fred Landers was after all the person she would have to turn to, to whom her avowal would have to be made; but for the moment he was of no more use to her than any of the others. The game she had resolved to play must be played between herself and Chris Fenno; everything else was the vainest expenditure of breath. “You _do_ agree, don’t you?” she heard Landers rather nervously insisting; and: “Oh, I daresay you’re right,” she assented. “And the great thing, you know, is that Anne shouldn’t lose you, or you lose Anne, because of this. All the rest will arrange itself somehow. Life generally does arrange things. And if it shouldn’t--” He stood up rather awkwardly, and she was aware of his advancing toward her. His face had grown long and solemn, and his broad bulk seemed to have narrowed to the proportions of the lank youth suffused with blushes who had taken shelter behind his mother when old Mrs. Landers had offered a bridal banquet to the John Clephanes. “If it doesn’t work out for you as we hope ... there’s my house ... that’s been waiting for you for ever so long ... though I shouldn’t ever have ventured to suggest it....” “Oh--” she faltered out, the clutch of pain relaxing a little about her heart. “Well, well,” her visitor stammered, rubbing his hands together deprecatingly, “I only suggest it as a sort of last expedient ... a forlorn hope....” His nervous laugh tried to give the words a humorous turn, but his eyes were still grave. Kate rose and put her hand in his. “You’re awfully good to me,” was all she found to say. Inwardly she was thinking, with a fresh thrill of anguish: “And now I shall never be able to tell him--never!”