He despised himself, put her on moral heights beyond his reach. To ask her in marriage would be an added insult. And her money! A queen’s dowry. The very temptation to retrieve his fortunes therewith was an ugly and abhorrent thing. He ran the gauntlet of all these thoughts. Emerged with rebellion in his soul; seized angrily at the first unhonoured standard to his hand. Marriage--with the daughter of Israel Hart, the Jew money-lender. It was impossible. Half divining this last mood, she came to where he sat, knelt down and placed her clasped hands on his knee. Her eyes dwelt upon him, softening adorably. Andrea del Sarto might have painted her. “Why don’t you speak? I have offended you? Asked for too much? Indeed, I didn’t expect it. I am a Jewess and your people will despise me--and my father’s a money-lender--it would be a disgrace to you. I was willing--ready--only----” The standard fell from the man’s hand. He yielded, utterly disarmed. The woman conquered as she surrendered to his embrace. “If I took your love and the gift of yourself,” he said, “and did not marry you--just because you were Israel Hart’s daughter--I should loathe myself. My child, I thought you a toy--I find you a woman--worthy to be any man’s wife.” “It would be sweet to be only yours,” she murmured. He kissed her again, then released her gently. “If I asked you to marry me now, I should be committing a base action--for other reasons. Try to understand them. I am very badly off for money. You are an heiress. And I owe your father £5,000 on a reversion, which no longer exists. I scrape together the interest. It is not heavy--your father has treated me as a friend and not as a client. But he has been reproaching me with the rottenness of the security. Until I am clear of him, at least, I can’t ask you to marry me.” Minna broke into happy laughter. “You foolish fellow! Don’t you see the obvious way of settling it? If you married me, the debt would be dissolved--in its own juice, so to speak.” His pride revolted. Impossible! It was mere trickery. Any honest man would cry out upon him. She could not see the point of honour. Her training had not sensitised her perceptions in such things. “What is to be done then?” she asked. “You won’t take me without making me your wife--and you won’t make me your wife on account of my money. I don’t believe you want me at all.” After what had passed there was but one answer to be given. At the end she smiled up at him and whispered: “That was very sweet; but it doesn’t tell us what is to be done.” He glanced at the clock. “The thing to be done is to say ‘Good-night’--and for you to go to sleep happy. I will find some way out of it. And I will bind myself to you forever, by this kiss. There.”