"Lord Mandeleys," he said, "I was at first Miss Hannaway's publisher. I have become her friend. I desire to become her husband. Her whole story is known to me, even from the day when you brought her away from the Vont cottage and chose her for your companion. I have watched the slow development of her brain, I know how much she has benefited intellectually by the forced seclusion entailed upon her by the conditions of your friendship. I realise, however, that the time has come when in justice to her gifts, which have not yet reached fruition, it is necessary that she should come into closer personal contact with the world of which she knows so little. She can attain that position by becoming my wife." "Really!" his listener murmured, with a faint note of unruffled surprise in his tone. Borden set his teeth. The task which had seemed to him so easy was presenting now a very different appearance. Nevertheless, he kept an iron restraint upon himself. "I do not wish to weary you," he went on, "by making a long story of this. I am forty-one years old and unmarried. Marcia Hannaway is the first woman whom I have wished to make my wife, and I wish it because I--care for her. I have been her suitor for nine years. During all that time she has given me no word of encouragement. I have never once, until these last few days, been permitted to dine alone with her, nor been allowed even the privilege of visiting her at her home. The restrictions upon our intercourse have been, I presume, in obedience to your wishes, or to Marcia's interpretation of them." "If we could come," the Marquis said gently, "to the reason for this visit--" The words supplied the sting that Borden needed. "I believe," he declared, "that Marcia Hannaway in her heart wishes to marry me. I believe that she cares enough to marry me. Only a short time ago she admitted it, and within twelve hours I received a note, retracting all that she had promised." There was a deep silence throughout the great room. The faces of the two men--a little closer now, for Borden had moved his chair--were both under the little circle of lamplight. For a single second something had disturbed the imperturbability of the Marquis's countenance--it seemed, indeed, as though some strange finger had humanised it, had softened the eyes and drawn apart the lips. Then the moment passed. "Are we nearing the end of this discussion, Mr. Borden?" "Every word brings us nearer the end," was the ready reply. "I am going to tell you the truth as I feel it in my heart. Marcia would be at her best in the life to which I should bring her. Mentally, spiritually and humanly, as my wife she would be happier. She has refused me out of loyalty to you." "Are you suggesting," the Marquis enquired, "that I should intervene in favour of your suit?" Borden struck the table with the flat of his hand.