She came down later, however. Albert, alone in the library, was sitting, a book upon his knees and his eyes fixed upon nothing in particular, when she came in. “You are thinking again, I see,” she said. He had not heard her enter. Now he rose, the book falling to the floor. “Why--why, yes,” he stammered. “How are you feeling? How is your head?” “It is no worse. And no better. I have been thinking, too, which perhaps explains it. Sit down, Albert, please. I want to talk with you. That is what I have been thinking about, that you and I must talk.” She seated herself upon the davenport and he pulled forward a chair and sat facing her. For a moment she was silent. When she did speak, however, her question was very much to the point. “Why did you say 'No' to Father's offer?” she asked. He had been expecting this very question, or one leading up to it. Nevertheless, he found answering difficult. He hesitated, and she watched him, her impatience growing. “Well?” she asked. He sighed. “Madeline,” he said, “I am afraid you think me very unreasonable, certainly very ungrateful.” “I don't know what to think about you. That is why I feel we must have this talk. Tell me, please, just what Father said to you this afternoon.” “He said--well, the substance of what he said was to offer me a position in his office, in his firm.” “What sort of a position?” “Well, I--I scarcely know. I was to have a desk there and--and be generally--ornamental, I suppose. It was not very definite, the details of the position, but--” “The salary was good, wasn't it?” “Yes; more than good. Much too good for the return I could make for it, so it seemed to me.” “And your prospects for the future? Wasn't the offer what people call a good opportunity?” “Why, yes, I suppose it was. For the right sort of man it would have been a wonderful opportunity. Your father was most kind, most generous, Madeline. Please don't think I am not appreciative. I am, but--” “Don't. I want to understand it all. He offered you this opportunity, this partnership in his firm, and you would not accept it? Why? Don't you like my father?” “Yes, I like him very much.” “Didn't you,” with the slightest possible curl of the lip, “think the offer worthy of you? . . . Oh, I don't mean that! Please forgive me. I am trying not to be disagreeable. I--I just want to understand, Albert, that's all.” He nodded. “I know, Madeline,” he said. “You have the right to ask. It wasn't so much a question of the offer being worthy of me as of my being worthy the offer. Oh, Madeline, why should you and I pretend? You know why Mr. Fosdick made me that offer. It wasn't because I was likely to be worth ten dollars a year to his firm. In Heaven's name, what use would I be in a stockbroker's office, with my make-up, with my lack of business ability? He would be making a place for me there and paying me a high salary for one reason only, and you know what that is. Now don't you?”