"Even if I thought I loved you," said she, "I couldn't be sure in these circumstances that I wasn't after your money."
"Don't worry about that," replied he. "I understand you better than you understand yourself."
"Let's stop talking about it," said she impatiently. "I want to explain to you the business side of this." She took her purse from the table. "Here are the papers." She handed him a check and a note. "I made them out at the bank this morning. The note is for what I owe you—and draws interest at four per cent. The check is for all the money I have left except about four hundred dollars. I've some bills I must pay, and also I didn't dare quite strip myself. The note may not be worth the paper it's written on, but I hope—"
Before she could prevent him he took the two papers, and, holding them out of her reach, tore them to bits.
Her eyes gleamed angrily. "I see you despise me—as much as I've invited. But, I'll make them out again and mail them to you."
"You're a silly child," said he gruffly. "We're going to be married."
She eyed him with amused exasperation. "It's too absurd!" she cried. "And if I yielded, you'd be trying to get out of it." She hesitated whether to tell him frankly just how she felt toward him. She decided against it, not through consideration—for a woman feels no consideration for a man she does not love, if he has irritated her—but through being ashamed to say harsh things to one whom she owed so much. "It's useless for you to pretend and to plead," she went on. "I shall not yield. You'll have to wait until I'm free and independent."
"You'll marry me then?"
"No," replied she, laughing. "But I'll be able to refuse you in such a way that you'll believe."
"But you've got to marry, Mildred, and right away." A suspicion entered his mind and instantly gleamed in his eyes. "Are you in love with someone else?"