"Yes, the real thing," he assured her. "Of course I knew what was doing. But I kept mum--didn't want to say anything to you till I could say everything. Mildred, I'm free. We can be married to-morrow, if you will." "Then you know about me?" said she, confused. "On the way I stopped in to see Keith. He told me about that skunk--told me you were free, too." Mildred slowly sat down. Her elbows rested upon the table. There was her bare forearm, slender and round, and her long, graceful fingers lay against her cheek. The light from above reflected charmingly from the soft waves and curves of her hair. "You're lovely--simply lovely!" cried Stanley. "Mildred--darling--you WILL marry me, won't you? You can go right on with the career, if you like. In fact, I'd rather you would, for I'm frightfully proud of your voice. And I've changed a lot since I became sincerely interested in you. The other sort of life and people don't amuse me any more. Mildred, say you'll marry me. I'll make you as happy as the days are long." She moved slightly. Her hand dropped to the table. "I guess I came down on you too suddenly," said he. "You look a bit dazed." "No, I'm not dazed," replied she. "I'll call Mrs. Brindley in, and we'll all three talk it over." "Please don't," said she. "I've got to think it out for myself." "I know there isn't anyone else," he went on. "So, I'm sure--dead sure, Mildred, that I can teach you to love me." She looked at him pleadingly. "I don't have to answer right away?" "Certainly not," laughed he. "But why shouldn't you? What is there against our getting married? Nothing. And everything for it. Our marriage will straighten out all the--the little difficulties, and you can go ahead with the singing and not bother about money, or what people might say, or any of those things." "I--I've got to think about it, Stanley," she said gently. "I want to do the decent thing by you and by myself." "You're afraid I'll interfere in the career--won't want you to go on? Mildred, I swear I'm--" "It isn't that," she interrupted, her color high. "The truth is--" she faltered, came to a full stop--cried, "Oh, I can't talk about it to-night." "To-morrow?" he suggested. "I--don't know," she stammered. "Perhaps to-morrow. But it may be two or three days." Stanley looked crestfallen. "That hurts, Mildred," he said. "I was SO full of it, so anxious to be entirely happy, and I thought you'd fall right in with it. Something to do with money? You're horribly sensitive about money, dear. I like that in you, of course. Not many women would have been as square, would have taken as little--and worked hard--and thought and cared about nothing but making good-- By Jove, it's no wonder I'm stark crazy about YOU!" She was flushed and trembling. "Don't," she pleaded. "You're beating me down into the dust. I--I'm--" She started up. "I can't talk to-night. I might say things I'd be-- I can't talk about it. I must--"