"Miss Conroy, please."

"Jessie"--he repeated the name stubbornly--"I think we'd better drop that
subject. You don't understand the case; and, anyway, I didn't come here to
discuss Harry. Our trouble is long standing, and if I insulted him you ought
to know I had a reason. I never came whining to you about him, and it don't
speak well for him that he hot-footed over to you with his version. I
suppose he'd heard about me--er--going to see you, and wanted to queer me.
I hope you'll take my word for it, Jessie, that I've never harmed him; all
the trouble he's made for himself, one way and another.

"But what I came over for to-day concerns just you and me. I wanted to tell
you that--to ask you if you'll marry me. I might put it more artistic,
Jessie, but that's what I mean, and--I mean all the things I'd like to say
and can't." He stopped and smiled at her, wistfully whimsical. "I've been
three weeks getting my feelings into proper words, little girl, and coming
over here I had a speech thought out that sure done justice to my subject.
But all I can remember of it is just that--that I want you for always."

Miss Conroy looked away from him, but he could see a deeper tint of red in
her cheek. It seemed a long time before she said anything. Then: "But you've
forgotten about Harry. He's my brother, and he'd be--er--you wouldn't want
him related-- to you."

"Harry! Well, I pass him up. I've got a pretty long account against him; but
I'll cross it off. It won't be hard to do--for you. I've thought of all
that; and a man can forgive a whole lot in the brother of the woman he
loves." He leaned toward her and added honestly: "I can't promise you I'll
ever get to like him, Jessie; but I'll keep my hands off him, and I'll treat
him civil; and when you consider all he's done, that's quite a large-sized