"You understand," said he, searching his face, "that your being Governor makes no difference to me. I give you Leslie because I like you--I think you're a man." Beekman left the room intoxicated with success. Indeed such was the magnetism of Peter V. that Beekman left his presence, like many a man before him, with a feeling that he would be willing to face death, if necessary, in Wilkinson's defence. The girl was waiting where he had left her. "Leslie," he began and got no further, for the words that he had planned to say would not come to him. Finally he stammered out: "It's this way, you see. We're equals now--that is, you're the daughter of Peter V. Wilkinson and I'm the Governor of the State. Consequently I dare--oh, I want you--there!" Leslie tried to pass him, but he was too quick for her. He caught her and drew her close to him, and for one instant his lips met hers. Then she wrenched herself away. "Tell me what you want of me, Eliot, quick," she panted, a new, wild, haunting expression in her eyes. "My wife," he stammered, swiftly advancing toward her. "My wife--I know that you--that you----" Her eyes sought the pattern of the Kirzan underneath their feet. "You know nothing," she said, her hands tightly clenched, the colour coming and receding on her face. "I--I saw it in your eyes," he pleaded. "You saw nothing in my eyes," she answered, speaking very determinedly. Beekman paused. Presently he drew from his pocket a trinket and held it out. "Leslie," he whispered, "perhaps I've been presumptuous, but you know I have always told you that I am old-fashioned. I got this for you." "It's just like you," she said, taking the trinket for an instant. "There's not a man in all New York who would have thought of buying the ring before--perhaps I like you for it, though." "But what will you think of me when I tell you that I had an inscription put on the inner circle? You had better read it, hadn't you?" For an instant Leslie felt herself weakening as she saw their initials on the ring. With difficulty she restrained her tears, and it was with a sad little smile that she now handed him back the ring. Then she shook her head. "Eliot," she said in an unnatural voice, "I'm not blaming you. You did only what you thought you had the right to do. More than that, I may have led you on. But it can never be. No, don't come near me, please, I mean it. You don't know; you can't understand; things happen very suddenly, sometimes. I can't marry you, Eliot, that's all. I can't ... I can't...." Beekman's face became scarlet, for there was something of the determination of her father in her voice. "You've got to," he insisted, for he refused to believe that she was not for him. But still she retreated before him. "I can't talk about it," she repeated wearily, stubbornly. "Will you tell me why?" he asked, forcing himself to be calm.