again take her hand.

"I knew you were titled and important, Mélanie, and at first I thought
that sealed my case entirely. But you seemed to forget your state,
seemed not to care so very much about it; and perhaps that made me
think it was possible for us both to forget it, or at least to ignore
it. I haven't a gold throne to give you; but you're the only woman
I've ever wanted to marry, and I wasn't going to give up the chance
until you said so."

"Do you know also that if I marry out of my rank and without the
consent of Duke Stephen, I shall forfeit all my fortune?"

"'Cut off without a cent!'" Aleck laughed, but presently paused,
embarrassed for the first time since he had begun his plea. "I, you
know, haven't millions, but there's a decent income, even for two. And
then I can always go to work and earn something," he smiled at her,
"giving information to a thirsty world about the gill-slit, as you call
it. It would be fun, earning money for you; I'd like to do it."

Mélanie smiled back at him, but left her chair and wandered uneasily
about the room, as if turning a difficult matter over in her mind.
Aleck stood by, watching. Presently she returned to her chair, pushed
him gently back into his seat and dropped down beside him. Before she
spoke, she touched her fingers lightly, almost lovingly, along the blue
veins of his big hand lying on the arm of the chair. The hand turned,
like a magnet spring, and imprisoned hers.

"No, dear friend, not yet," said Mélanie, drawing away her hand, yet
not very quickly after all. "There is much yet to say to you, and I