"You might also say that she loves herself better than she loves her own
soul," said the old man grimly. "She will go on loving you, I've no doubt,
in a strictly physical way, but I wouldn't put much dependence in her
soulfulness. One of these fine days, she will come to you and say that she
has earned two million dollars, and she will ask you if it is too late to
start all over again. What will you say to that?"

"Good Lord, sir, what would you expect me to say?" exploded Braden. "I
should tell her to—to go to hell!" he grated between his teeth.

"Meanwhile, I want you to understand that I have acted for your best
interests, Braden. God knows I am not in love with this girl. I know her
kind, I know her breed. I want to save you from—well, I want to give you a
fighting chance to be a great, good man. You need the love of a fine,
unselfish woman to help you to the heights you aspire to reach. Anne
Tresslyn would not have helped you. She cannot see above her own level.
There are no heights for her. She belongs to the class that never looks up
from the ground. They are always following the easiest path. I am doing
you a good turn. Somewhere in this world there is a noble, self-
sacrificing woman who will make you happy, who will give strength to you,
who will love you for yourself and not for _herself_. Go out and find her,
my boy. You will recognise her the instant you see her."

"But you—what of you?" asked Braden, deeply impressed by the old man's
unsuspected sentiment. "Will you go ahead and—and marry her, knowing that
she will make your last few years of life unhappy, un—"

"I am under contract," said Templeton Thorpe grimly. "I never go back on a
contract."