"But why do you tell me all this?" he asked. "Why do you sing her
praises to me? What do you mean--are you trying to inveigle me into
marrying her?"

Mr. Liakos was astounded. The idea had never occurred to him; he had
never thought of the professor as a marrying man. And yet, why not? In
what was he lacking? Wasn't his friend the very man to become the
brother-in-law he so ardently desired? All this passed vaguely through
his mind while he stood staring at Mr. Plateas, unable to find an answer
to this unexpected question. The professor continued with energy:

"Listen, Liakos. I owe you my life; it belongs to you. But if you ask me
to get married as a proof of my gratitude, I'd far rather go this moment
back to the sea, where you saved me from death, and drown myself before
your very eyes!"

The sudden heat of the professor's speech showed that he was hurt, but
whether at what the judge had just been saying about the elder sister,
or at the secrecy he had shown in the matter and his studied reserve in
speaking of the younger sister, was doubtful. Probably the good man
himself did not know; what he did know was that he felt hurt. This was
clear enough from what he said and the way he said it.

Mr. Liakos was offended.

"Mr. Plateas," he replied dryly, "I have often told you--and I repeat it
now for the last time, I hope--I have not, and I do not wish to have,
any claim upon your gratitude. As for your marrying, I assure you that I
never dreamed of presenting you as a suitor, or of seeking a wife for
you. I had not the least thought of it when I spoke to you of my