Backing away from the stairway, he stood on a rug in the middle of the
hall, his head hung like a young bull about to charge.

"What made you think of it?"

"Isn't that obvious? After you've done so much for me--"

"I haven't done anything for you, Miss Guion. I've said so a good many
times. It wouldn't be right for me to take payment for what you don't
owe me. Besides, there's nothing I want."

"That is to say," she returned, coldly, "you prefer the rôle of
benefactor. You refuse to accept the little I might be able to do. I
admit that it isn't much--but it's _something_--something within my
power, and which I thought you might like. But since you don't--"

"It's no question of liking; it's one of admitting a principle. If you
offer me a penny it's in part payment for a pound, while I say, and say
again, that you don't owe me anything. If there's a debt at all it's
your father's--and it's not transferable."

"Whether it's transferable or not is a matter that rests between my
father and me--and, of course, Colonel Ashley, if I marry him."

He looked at her with sudden curiosity. "Why do you always say that
with--an 'if'?"

She reflected an instant. "Because," she said, slowly, "I can't say it
in any other way."