“To father. And you must say you simply can’t marry for three months. I must have time to-- No matter. I hope--in fact I’m sure that I’ll be able to let you off in a month.” “And have everybody say you chucked me? I like that--I do!” “You know, Hanky, no one would believe for a minute that any girl would chuck _you_.” “But--but you’d be doing it, just the same,” he exploded. “And--I _want_ to marry you.” “Now, Peter, you know perfectly well you like Allie better.” “Yes, I do _like_ her better. Sometimes I don’t like _you_ at all. But I always _love_ you.” “Habit--simply habit,” Beatrice assured him airily. “You’ll do it, won’t you?” “No!” cried Peter, stopping short. “No, I’ll not do it. I’ve made up my mind to marry you. And I will.” “Aren’t you ashamed of yourself, Hanky Vanderkief?” cried Beatrice. “Why, I always thought you were a gentleman.” “Oh, when we’re married you’ll be all right--mighty glad you did. A girl doesn’t know her own mind.” “Shame on you! Trying to take advantage of the fact that my father’s got me in his power.” This admission delighted Peter. “He’s set on your marrying me?” he inquired. “That’s why I want you to help me.” “Then that settles it!” exclaimed Peter triumphantly. “We’ll be married.” “You--side with him--against _me_!” Beatrice’s scorn was superb. “Oh, I wish I could marry you--just to punish you for that!” Peter looked uncomfortable but dogged. “I’d not dare offend your father, anyhow. It’d cost me a pot of money. He’s got me up to my eyes in a lot of his deals. And if he turned against me--gad, I’d look like a sheep just after shearing. Beatrice, don’t you see it? There’s no escape for us. We ought to marry. We want to marry. We’ve _got_ to marry.” Beatrice’s answer was a glance of contempt. “I understand now,” said she bitterly. “You’d marry Allie Kinnear, if you dared. But you don’t dare because you’re afraid it’d cost you a little money.” “A little!” cried Peter. “About a third of all I’ve got.” “And you’ve got about five times as much as you could possibly spend. Oh, I had no idea you were so contemptible. You’d marry me against my will--against your own heart--for fear and for money.” “I say, now!” protested Vanderkief. “That ain’t fair, Beatrice.” “_Will_ you help me?” demanded she. “I can’t--and I won’t,” replied he unhesitatingly. “And, furthermore, I’m going to put it up to you and your father that if you don’t marry me next month I’ll not marry you at all.” And Peter drew himself to his full height and swelled himself to his excellent full figure and looked fiercely resolved. Beatrice stood motionless, her gaze fixed upon a worn place in the grass just across the lake and not far from the cascade. “What do you say, Beatrice?” he asked rather uneasily. “You meant that?” He nodded emphatically. “I did. I do.” “You’d speak to father?” His eyes shifted. “If you compelled me to.” “Look at me, Peter.”