anyway, that I did not want to make it worse than it already is.
Besides--now, you must be reasonable. The last time I paid you a
thousand dollars in a lump you agreed that you would not bother me any
more. You were to do as you wished, and I was free to do the same, and
yet, already--"

_"Bother you! bother you!_ Is that the way to talk to me? Am I the
scum of creation all at once? Didn't you make me what I am? Haven't
you sworn that you care more for me than any one else? I was pretty,
according to you. I was lovely. I was bright--brighter and better-read
than any of your dirty, stuck-up set. You said you'd rather be with me
than with any one else, but since then you've begun to think of
marrying that creature for her money. Oh, I know that's it--you
couldn't love a cold, haughty stick like she is. You are not made that
way, but you _do_ love money; you want what she's got, and if you are
let alone you will marry her."

"I have no such idea, Marie," he said, falteringly.

"You are a liar, a deliberate, sneaking liar. Money is your god, and
always will be."

He made no further denial. They faced each other in perturbed silence
for a moment. Presently, to his relief, he saw her face softening, and
he took advantage of it. "Marie," he said, "you are not treating me
right. My conscience is clear in regard to you. I made you no
promises. I paid your expenses, and you were satisfied. You are the
one who has broken faith. Above all it was understood between us that
I was not to be bound to you in any way. I have been indulging you,
and you are growing more and more exacting. You are not fair--not