now? Well, that's where you come in."

"Do you mean--?" she hesitated.

"Yes, I do," said Mr. Scobell. There was a touch of doggedness in his
voice. He was not going to stand any nonsense, by Heck, but there was
no doubt that Betty's wide-open eyes were not very easy to meet. He
went on rapidly. "Cut out any fool notions about romance." Miss
Scobell, who was knitting a sock, checked her needles for a moment in
order to sigh. Her brother eyed her morosely, then resumed his remarks.
"This is a matter of state. That's it. You gotta cut out fool notions
and act for good of state. You gotta look at it in the proper spirit.
Great honor--see what I mean? Princess and all that. Chance of a
lifetime--dynasty--you gotta look at it that way."

Miss Scobell heaved another sigh, and dropped a stitch.

"For the love of Mike," said her brother, irritably, "don't snort like
that, Marion."

"Very well, dear."

Betty had not taken her eyes off him from his first word. An unbiased
observer would have said that she made a pretty picture, standing
there, in her white dress, but in the matter of pictures, still life
was evidently what Mr. Scobell preferred for his gaze never wandered
from the cigar stump which he had removed from his mouth in order to
knock off the ash.

Betty continued to regard him steadfastly. The shock of his words had