“I would have given anything to be free—for you, darling—and I could afford to be generous. I feel more capable than ever of making many a fortune,” he replied, with great confidence.
“I haven’t the least doubt of your capabilities, dear. Only you happened to remark but an hour ago that this was one of the most precarious years frenzied finance has ever known. Therefore, I think,” she pleaded wistfully, “you should exercise your better judgment.”
“What is it you would advise me doing? Have you a suggestion to offer?”
“Y-e-es, I think so,” she hesitated, as though not sure of herself. “Of course, I know very little about business, as you know, but to me it seems a good one.” She leaned forward animatedly. “As long as Marjorie is entirely ignorant of just how much you are actually worth, why don’t you give her a great deal less, and allow her to think, she is getting—exactly what you promised her?”
“Why—why—” he stammered, “wouldn’t that be dishonest?”
“Not at all!” she replied emphatically. “Merely diplomatic.”
“Somehow, it doesn’t seem fair—my conscience,—why dear, what is the trouble?” he inquired anxiously, as Geraldine without warning placed her handkerchief to her eyes and began weeping silently.
“You—you don’t know how you hurt me, Hugh! Why—why—you as much as imply that I was suggesting to you an act of dishonesty, when the only thing that entered my mind was your welfare. As far as I am concerned, I told you once before, dear—that I’d marry you if you were a pauper.”
“Forgive me, dearest, and dry your eyes, I implore you. How can you imagine, for a moment, that I would intentionally offend you?”
“I’m such a baby,” she replied, drying her eyes obediently, “and my great love for you would carry me beyond all sense of reasoning. Of course, if you think there is anything wrong about my suggestion, why then——”