"You might have been sure of me! I couldn't look at any woman except you."
"It wasn't that sort of thing—exactly. People—cats!—used to put such horrid ideas into my head."
"What ideas?"
"I simply can't tell you, Tony. Don't ask me, please."
"Oh, well!" he flung out. "It doesn't matter much now what ideas you had then. Do you love me to-day, Marise?"
"I—think I do—a little," she almost whispered, as her parent's arm (twined round her waist) pressed painfully against her side.
"A little isn't enough!" Severance said. "It must be a big love to stand the strain."
"The strain of what?" Mary, as a mother, intervened.
"Of the sacrifice I'm going to ask—to beg, to implore—her to make."
"Sacrifice? Do you mean anything about money?" Mrs. Sorel wanted to know. "You were quite right in calling me your friend. I can assure you it would be a joy to Marise if, in your trouble, her money——"