"Oh, what's the use?" groaned the miserable lover. "I cannot say anything
more to you, sir, than I said early this afternoon. I told you then just
what I think of your treachery. There isn't anything more for me to say,
but I'd like you to know that Anne despises you. Her mother acknowledges
that much at least,—and, curse her, without shame!"

"I am quite well aware of the fact, Braden," said the old man. "You
couldn't expect her to love me, could you?"

"Then, why in God's name are you marrying her? Why are you spoiling my
life? Why are you—"

"Is it spoiling your life to have the girl you love turn to and marry an
old wreck such as I am, just because I happen to be willing to pay her two
million dollars,—in advance, you might say? Is that spoiling your life or
saving it?"

Mr. Thorpe had dropped the cynical, half-amused air, and was now speaking
with great intensity. Braden, struck by the change, turned suddenly to
regard the old man with a new and puzzled light in his lowering eyes.

"See here, my lad, you've had your chance. I knew what I was about when I
sent you to see her. I knew precisely what would happen. She wants to
marry you, but she prefers to marry me. That isn't as ambiguous as it
sounds. Just think it over,—later on, not now, for I have something else
to say to you. Do me the honour to be seated. Thank you. Now, you've got
quite a good-sized, respectable nose upon your face. I submit that the
situation is quite as plain as that nose, if you look at it in the broad
light of understanding. If you think that I am marrying Anne because I
love her, or because I am in my dotage and afflicted with senility, you