"Because ... because Parrish is not the sort of man who will make you
happy ..."

"And why not, may I ask? He's very kind and very generous, and I believe
he likes me ..."

Robin Greve made a gesture of despair.

"My dear girl," he said, trying to control himself to speak quietly,
"what do you know about this man? Nothing. But there are beastly stories
circulating about his life ..."

Mary Trevert laughed cynically.

"My dear old Robin," she said, "they tell stories about every bachelor.
And I hardly think you are an unbiassed judge ..."

Robin Greve was pacing up and down the floor.

"You're crazy, Mary," he said, stopping in front of her, "to dream you
can ever be happy with a man like Hartley Parrish. The man's a ruthless
egoist. He thinks of nothing but money and he's out to buy you just
exactly as you ..."

"As I am ready to sell myself!" the girl echoed. "And I _am_ ready,
Robin. It's all very well for you to stand there and preach ideals at
me, but I'm sick and disgusted at the life we've been leading for the
past three years, hovering on the verge of ruin all the time, dunned by
tradesmen and having to borrow even from servants ... yes, from old
servants of the family ... to pay Mother's bridge debts. Mother's a good