Leslie closed her eyes and whispered softly, her hand creeping about his neck: "Good-night, father." The next moment she rose and slowly started to the door and then as slowly came back, thinking to herself: "I might as well get it over once for all, so that to-morrow there'll be nothing to tell, nothing to do but to take up the routine of life again." And when she reached her father's side, she said bravely but with a little sigh: "Father, I'm not going to marry Eliot Beekman." "Not going to----" spluttered Wilkinson. For the first time in months his colour fled. "Didn't he--hasn't he asked you?" "Yes, and I refused him." "What?" he bellowed. "Why?" "I had my own reasons," she replied, never flinching as her father glowered upon her from his height. "A woman's reason, I'll wager. What's the trouble? Some other chap?" "No." "Nobody else, eh? Then, what's up? Don't you like Beekman?" "Yes." "Oh, you like him, but don't love him, that is, well enough to marry him. I don't care so much about the love. We'll leave love out of the question--it's too ticklish a subject." "I like him too well to marry him," she answered earnestly. "A woman's reason all right enough," muttered her father. "Talk United States, girlie. What's the trouble?" Once more she clung to him, and said very tenderly, now: "Father, won't you rest content, won't you let me stay with you always, always taking care of you, doing for you--there's no one else...." She caught his big hand in hers. "I want to go down the years with you, hand in hand, never leaving you, father--never...." She choked suddenly. "You can do that as Beekman's wife," he persisted. "I shall not be Beekman's wife," she insisted, strangling a sigh. "I want to know the reason," he demanded, with that veiled threat in his tone which never failed of its results. "Will you forgive if I tell you?" "I won't forgive you if you don't!" Leslie drew herself away and leaned against the door as though for support, for strength. "Father, Eliot Beekman wouldn't ask me to marry him until he had made a position? for himself, had something to offer me. He has said it a thousand times. He's got pride--too much pride, it seems to me. But I've got pride, too. Months ago I would have married Eliot--he didn't know that--any time he asked me. It's got beyond me now. He's got everything to offer me, I've got nothing in return to offer him." "Nonsense, child! You've got money," protested her father, puzzled, "at least you have so long as I don't jump the bail." "Oh, how I wish you would!" she cried, startled into sudden ecstasy by the thought. Then she went on: "Money, what is money to me? What was it to Eliot? Nothing save an obstacle. That isn't it; you haven't understood; and to tell you I've got to hurt--I've got to say things that--oh, don't misunderstand me, please...." "I'll misunderstand you if you don't go on," blurted out Wilkinson, unfeelingly. "Quick, now!"