slowly. "Though we should certainly be comparatively poor. What you mean
is that I'm not rich enough to satisfy you, I suppose?"

She nodded.

"Yes. I'm sick--_sick_ of being poor! I've been poor all my life--always
having to skimp and save and do things on the cheap--go without this and
make shift with that. I'm tired of it! This last two months with Aunt
Elvira--all this luxury and beauty," she gestured eloquently towards the
villa standing like a gem in its exquisite Italian setting, "the car, the
perfect service, as many frocks as I want--Oh! I've loved it all! And I
can't give it up. I can't go back to being poor again!"

She paused, breathless, and her eyes, passionately upbraiding, beseeching
understanding, sought his face.

"Don't you understand?" she added, twisting her hands together.

His eyes glinted.

"Yes, I'm beginning to," he returned briefly. "But how are you going to
compass what you want--as a permanency? Your visit to Lady Templeton can't
extend indefinitely."

She was silent, evading his glance. Her foot beat nervously on the flagged
path where they stood.

"Is there some one else?" he asked incisively. "Another man--who can give
you all these things?"