"How can I help you?" asked Shirley.
"I don't know," he answered with suppressed excitement. "As I told you, I am up against a blank wall. I can't see my way." He gave a nervous little laugh and went on: "God! I'm ashamed of myself—ashamed! Did you ever read the fable of the Lion and the Mouse? Well, I want you to gnaw with your sharp woman's teeth at the cords which bind the son of John Burkett Ryder to this Rossmore woman. I want you to be the mouse—to set me free of this disgraceful entanglement."
"How? asked Shirley calmly.
"Ah, that's just it—how?" he replied. "Can't you think—you're a woman—you have youth, beauty—brains." He stopped and eyed her closely until she reddened from the embarrassing scrutiny. Then he blurted out: "By George! marry him yourself—force him to let go of this other woman! Why not? Come, what do you say?"
This unexpected suggestion came upon Shirley with all the force of a violent shock. She immediately saw the falseness of her position. This man was asking for her hand for his son under the impression that she was another woman. It would be dishonorable of her to keep up the deception any longer. She passed her hand over her face to conceal her confusion.
"You—you must give me time to think," she stammered. "Suppose I don't love your son—I should want something—something to compensate."
"Something to compensate?" echoed Ryder surprised and a little disconcerted. "Why, the boy will inherit millions—I don't know how many."
"No—no, not money," rejoined Shirley; "money only compensates those who love money. It's something else—a man's honour—a man's life! It means nothing to you."
He gazed at her, not understanding. Full of his own project, he had mind for nothing else. Ignoring therefore the question of compensation, whatever she might mean by that, he continued:
"You can win him if you make up your mind to. A woman with your resources can blind him to any other woman."