It was then that Loretta felt his shoulder and the encircling arm become
limp. He drew away from her gently, and gently he deposited her in a big
chair, where she buried her face and sobbed afresh. He twisted his
moustache fiercely, then drew up another chair and sat down.

"I--I do not understand," he said.

"I am so unhappy," she wailed.

"Why unhappy?"

"Because . . . he . . . he wants me to marry him."

His face cleared on the instant, and he placed a hand soothingly on hers.

"That should not make any girl unhappy," he remarked sagely. "Because you
don't love him is no reason--of course, you don't love him?"

Loretta shook her head and shoulders in a vigorous negative.

"What?"

Bashford wanted to make sure.

"No," she asserted explosively. "I don't love Billy! I don't want to love
Billy!"

"Because you don't love him," Bashford resumed with confidence, "is no
reason that you should be unhappy just because he has proposed to you."