“A sad mixture of pronouns,” he objected. “‘It’ might, as you suggest, as well be a widow or an old maid. But why ’its’ waste of money and valuable service? That is what I shall set myself to find out. But we’ll be married first, and then I’ll be in a position to defy him, her, or it, as the case may be. And if no one ever shows up, as I half believe—— Barbara, look at me!” She obeyed, a mutinous pucker between her fine dark brows. “There is no use,” she murmured, “of your talking that way. I consider myself bound; and I cannot——” His face softened as he looked at her. “Poor little girl,” he murmured, “it’s pretty rough sledding for you, and has been all along. But I’d like to ask you one thing. Has any other man asked you to marry him since I went away?” Her eyes fled into the distance. “Will you tell me who it was?” Still she was dumb, struggling to escape the sudden turmoil of her thoughts. “Why,” she stammered at last, “should you ask?” “Is it a case of ’how happy could I be with either, were the other fair charmer away?’” he demanded, a wrathful crimson rising to his bronzed cheeks. “You’ve played fast and loose with me always, Barbara, first it was the brat and——” He checked himself with an effort. “Then you won’t tell me?” he said sulkily. “It—was nothing,” she stammered. “I didn’t——” “You didn’t accept him,” he finished for her. “That’s evident. Well, we’ll call it square if you’ll say to me, ‘David, I love you, and I’ll marry you as soon as we can straighten out this—what shall we call it?—this previous engagement.’ Will you say that, Barbara? Will you?” She trembled, shrinking into herself under the fire of his gaze. “I haven’t told you yet—what you asked.” “Never mind that. Come, don’t put me off again!” She looked at him, her eyes clouded with doubt and pain. “You don’t trust me, Barbara. I see that,” he said bitterly. “You—must make me—trust you,” she murmured, after a difficult silence. “I don’t know why—I can’t say—yes. But—I can’t—yet.” “I know,” he said roughly. “You’re half in love with the other man. Damn him!” He sprang to his feet, upsetting his chair. “No—no!” she denied breathlessly. “It isn’t that. I refused him because”—her voice trailed off in a whisper—“I remembered you, David.” He caught her in his arms with a triumphant laugh. “You can’t escape me now, after that admission,” he told her. “You shall marry me, sweetheart; no one shall prevent it.” She yielded to his eyes, his arms, his eager lips with a sense of mingled relief and terror. “We must not speak of it, David,” she warned him, “nor—take too much for granted, till after we have found out about the contract. We may have to wait till——” “Oh, damn the contract!” cried David exuberantly. “I’ll find that fellow Smith and make him tell me all he knows. I’ll fix it up, sweetheart; you’ll see!”